Lightbringer
by FrostFangs016
Summary: "...And that sword shall be Lightbringer, the Red Sword of Heroes, and he who clasps it shall be Azor Ahai come again, and the darkness shall flee before him." But what if Lightbringer was not a sword, but a person? An old enemy had risen once more, will Westeros survive this time without the help of dragons?
1. Whispers from the East

It has been sixteen years since the abomination that is the Dragon Queen has been vanquished from the face of Westeros. Sixteen years since the last time the Three Eyed-Raven managed to see beyond the Narrow Sea. He still remembers it, and sometimes he would look at it from the past. He did that now for a hundred times, even a thousand, he can't even remember the exact count, but no matter, he watched once more as a Red Priestess breath life to Daenerys Targaryen, the Mad King's daughter.

_Where did I go wrong?_ He would ask everytime he looked back. _How?_

He watched now as she opened her eyes. It was always the same, she would open her eyes and it was angry flames of red he saw instead of her usual dark inidigo eyes and then comes a blinding light, so bright that it washed everything in white, the temple where the dragon brought its mother, the Priestess and the Queen herself disappears from his sight. When he opened his eyes, Bran's eyes, it will take him a whole five minutes to see normally again, to recover himself from temporary blindness. It frustrates him. It still frustrates him now. Especially now when all of Essos, her new empire, is beyond his ability to See. Oh, that wasn't right. He can still use his magic, but it was weakened, somewhat hindered and all he can see was white light, as if something or someone was blocking him, making him blind, making a fool out of him.

"Your Grace," a voice from his side called his attention.

"Yes?" he answered.

"It is time for the meeting of the small council," Samwell Tarly said.

He merely nodded.

Xxxxxxxxxxx

"The Dragon Queen and her bastard..." King Bran inquired to his Master of Whisperers as he often does everytime the council where about to adjourn.

Lord Aron Mathis, the only foreign man in the room shifts uncomfortably on his chair. He was a Braavosi politician and a poor one at that, but it was his friend, a former envoy from the Iron Banks of Braavos who recommended him to the new monarch of Westeros. After all the years of serving the realm he still can't believe himself that he would be a part of such a high position in a foreign country while in Braavos his decisions and failures at ruling even his own household was a laughing stock among the citizens of the free city both high and low.

He cleared his throat and did his best to look at the glassy eyed stare of the young man who's not quite a man at all and answered truthfully.

"I-It has become a great hardship for me to hear whispers on the East, Your Grace," he stammered then bowed his head to avoid looking at the dead eyes of the man he serves. "But the last message the handful of my spies had sent says that there's nothing out of ordinary happening inside the walls of the Queen's pyramid in Meereen."

He chanced to look up and he immediately regrets it. The King's eyes are still on him, unblinking and devoid of emotion. An awkward silence envelopes the room as all of them awaits the King to say anything.

"Thank you for your report Lord Aron, or should I say the lack of it?" The King finally speaks.

He felt his heart skip a couple of beats. Will this be the last time I will have a head? He asks himself everytime he failed to give valuable information about the Dragon Queen.

_But it wasn't my fault!_ Oh, how he would like to shout that at the top of his lungs.

It was the King himself and his sweet sister, the Queen in the North who made it almost impossible for him to communicate with his spies. Those assasins they sent from time to time to end the Dragon Queen's bastard daughter's life causes her to pass a royal decree banning any interaction between Essos and Westeros. That decree did not only made it harder to gather news about the Dragon Queen but it also caused great decline on the realm's economy especially when the realm was still trying to rebuild itself little by little from the previous war and with the winter upon them, the provisions from Essos was a necessity. Even the Red Keep's construction had been delayed for three years before finally resuming when the Dragon Queen took pity on them and let Westerosi merchants enter the ports of Dragon's Bay and the Free Cities, but only at the ports, it is still strictly prohibited for Westerosi to enter any city in Essos. Those who would disobey the law the Dragon Queen made would find themselves losing a head or worse, be turned into a pile of ashes.

"My King, although it is true that Essos had become more lenient to Westerosi merchants it is still hard for me and my birds to exhange messages. I ordered them, the small remaining ones who would reply to me anyway, to minimize our interactions for their own safety. It wouldn't be wise for me to risk the few of them to the Dragon Queen."

An excuse. He knows it, the King knows it. But the truth nonetheless.

The King finally blinks his eyes and nodded, Lord Aron forces himself not to look too relieved.

"What about Braavos?"

No. No, he wasn't safe at all afterall. The relief he felt vanished instantly in a matter of seconds.

"Y-Your Grace?"

"The Dragon Queen's bastard daughter conquered it and now the mother holds a high position in its government, am I right?"

"Yes, Your Grace," Lord Aron replied and brushed a sweat from his brows before continuing.

"The few friends I had in Braavos who had respectable position in the Braavosi government did not want to involve themselves in the troubles of the crown, so it was harder for me to know certain things. But my brother often send me letters whenever valuable news comes up." He said and forces himself once more to look directly in the eyes of the King. Conveying him what his words failed him. _It's not my fault! _

The King sighed, a small barely audible one, before nodding at him and shifts his attention to his Hand.

"Lord Tyrion, this bastard, how many cities did she conquered already?"

Lord Aron felt a pang of disappointment and jealousy, he was the one who fed the King those informations! If the King wanted to know, he should have asked him and not the half man he calls Hand.

"The Princess Missandei--"

Lord Aron heard a snort beside him. It was from the Master of the Ships, the Bastard of Driftmark.

"A Princess named after a slave," Aurane Waters said with a smirk. He's comely, Lord Aron admits. He has the looks of Old Valyria in him too, like the Targaryens, albeit a small drop, but still there on his fair hair and complexion.

"Yes," Lord Tyrion says with a hint of irritation in his voice for being interrupted, but there are moments that Lord Aron oft thinks that Lord Tyrion looks offended and a little hurt everytime someone insulted the Princess. No, the Princess' name. It made him wonder of the Lord Hand's relationship with the former slave where the the Princess was named after, where they friends? After all, the first Missandei and Lord Tyrion both served the Dragon Queen.

"The Princess was ten when she brought Qarth to heel," Lord Tyrion continued his report. "One and ten when she managed to instigate a revolt in Volantis, freeing the slaves and dragging Volantis to the folds of her mother's empire, and on the same year, Lys bended to her as well, the other Free Cities followed. Tyrosh and Pentos, although uniting against the Empire of New Valyria, the Princess with the help of her mother's Dothraki horde, Unsullied and the army of freed slaves manages to defeat both the cities in a battle that lasted only for a day. Braavos is the last of her...accomplishments. She was but ten and three when the Bastard Daughter of Old Valyria submits to the Dragon Queen's rule."

Everyone remained silent for a while. All of them were probably thinking the same thing.

It was already troublesome for the realm when the Dragon Queen was just holding the Dragon's Bay and the Dothraki Sea as her kingdom when she passed her decree, it was proven more than a minor annoyance and more of a crisis when the bastard Princess conquered the Free Cities as well. Although the Free Cities indeed was not a part of the Dragon Queen's domain when she passed her decree, her words still hold some weight on their government. After all, her ruthlessness had been a common knowledge throughout the known world and to avoid rousing the anger of the 'Last Dragon', the other Free Cities had no choice but to accept her laws. It is indeed true that some cities still trade with Westeros but only if the transactions remained hidden. The merchants of Westeros became smugglers on those perilous times, until the Queen had became more lenient and generous on them. If the Dragon Queen even extends her decree for a year or more all of them would have died in starvation, not to mention the North whose domain was basically a wasteland in winter. Lord Aron knew what message the Dragon Queen was trying to convey; _You all live by my mercy. _

It was Lord Bronn who first breaks the silence in which Lord Aron was grateful. Lord Bronn and Lord Aurane, the life of the small council. If it wasn't the bastard, it was the other Lord, the former sellsword who would be the one to release the tension. But he was wrong to feel grateful after hearing what Lord Bronn had to say.

The Master of Coins whistled.

"That was one feisty little dragon. If the Mad Queen had her before when she decided to conquer Westeros, well..." He left that statement hanging.

Sometimes. Sometimes, he felt that the Master of Coins had a secret death wish.

"You dare speak of treason in front of your King?" the Lady Knight, Ser Brienne almost growled at the Master of Coins.

The sellsword Lord has the gall to pretend flabbergasted by the Lady Commander's accusations.

"Forgive me my _Lady_," Lord Bronn said.

Lord Aron noticed how Bronn stresses the word "lady" before turning to the King, stealing Ser Brienne's opportunity to scold him for calling her that.

"Your Grace, I did not mean to give offence. I merely stated the possibilities, but that is a moot point isn't my dear friends? My King? Westeros is yours." He looked at the King with his false remorse painted all over his face.

"You--" the Lady Commander's face was all red and Lord Aron could have sworn her hand twitched as if wanting to draw her sword right then and there.

It was the fat Grandmaester who caught all their attention.

"My Lords...uhm...Ser," Samwell Tarly said hesitantly.

"I believe, i-it is hardly the time for fighting." He stammered like he always do. "The Mad Queen and her daughter remains a threat to Westeros. How long do you think will the both of them grew bored in conquering the cities in Essos?"

"The problem is not when they'll grew bored, Grandmaester. They already conquered Essos, it's about when will the Dragon Queen decides to come back and take what she think was hers?" said Lord Tyrion.

On that, none of them has answers.

It was the King who broke the silence with another query.

"How many dragons did she have now?"

Lord Aron saw his opportunity to ingratiate himself once more to the King, he rushed to answer his question like a drowning man grabbing a floating wood.

"Last we know, Your Grace, the Mad Queen manages to acquire seven dragon eggs. We knew that four hatched almost ten years ago, but then all of Essos was locked down from Westeros on that year, so we can never be sure how many hatched that same year." He said with absolute confidence. That particular information was the most that made him feel proud, that and the birth of the Princess. Those were the times when his power as Master of Whisperers was at its peak.

"But, my spies managed to whisper to me, as you might remember last month, that all the dragon eggs hatched after all and now a full grown dragons." He finished his report with a grave voice.

The Last Dragon finally takes back her title; The Mother of Dragons.

_You only live by my mercy. _The message rang to Lord Aron's head once more.

"So, counting the one dragon the Queen has when she...left Westeros, she has, what eight dragons now?" Lord Bronn asks with a smirk while picking his fingernails with his knife. As if the Dragon Queen would spare him if she noticed how clean his hands are.

"Nine, my Lord. It seems you've forgotten our little dragon?" Lord Aurane added.

Yes, the bastard Princess. How could he not forget the deformity the Mad Queen has brought in to this world?

"They say she bear wings twice her size, and a tail to match it too. And scales covering almost entirely her body." Lord Aurane continued.

"Lies," Lord Aron said, turning his body towards the young lord. "My spies had said that she only has wings, and yes it was twice as big as her, but there are no visible tail whatsoever," Lord Aron explained patiently.

"Either that or she hides it well by shoving it up her ass." Lord Bronn said with a hint of boredom in his voice.

Lord Aurane laughed with mirth.

"Your lack of manners and crudeness knows no bounds," Ser Brienne said and then snatched the knife Lord Bronn was using to clean his fingers and toss it on the table. It did a circular motion before the sharp end of it ended in front of him. Pointing at him.

"I. Was. Not. Finished. Cleaning. Yet." The Master of Coins growled slowly at the knight.

Lord Aron coughed to get their attention once more. Some times he really thought that the council consists of bickering children, this was one of those times. How he missed that old man, the former Master of Ships. Lord Aron sighed, it won't do to miss the dead, the former Master of Ships and him are not friends in anyway, in fact they are almost always at opposite sides when it comes to their beliefs, but atleast, Lord Davos is a man of honor, truth and maturity. What would he do to trade half the council for that man.

Lord Aron turned back to the young Master of Ships. "And my Lord, the scales you are telling us are for the stone men. I was pretty sure Princess Missandei is not afflicted with greyscale." He said kindly, trying to smile to the young Lord who just shrugged at him a smirk visible on his face, probably still laughing at Lord Bronn's statement earlier.

"It does not matter. I can't see. I can't see her or the mother," the King stated with no emotion distracting them from the amusement they felt on Lord Bronn's jape. "I can't see what they are doing or what they will do."

The King then shifted his attention to him once more. The warmth he felt very briefly vanished, it was then replaced by coldness. Coldness he associated with death.

"I've made you Master of Whisperers to be my eyes and ears in Essos," King Bran said with those glassy eyes staring at him, boring right through his skull and that voice. That cold voice. "Don't fail me Lord Aron. For your own sake."

**Note:**

I just want to clarify things. First, this fic is not pro-Stark. I'm still pretty peeved by all of them with the exception of Arya coz she's my best girl next to Dany and I can pretty much forgive her of any crimes she committed. I have a little bit of annoyance towards Jon though, because he got himself manipulated in some way. But I understand his point (some of it), that he's just confused and all that (my poor baby), so I want to show his regret and guilt first before I would go easy on him. So, yah, fuck Bran and Sansa. And Jonerys scenes would be a looooooooong way coming. This fic would focus on their daughter though, but she would have limited POVs and the story would circulate on the people around her and what they think of her. I was thinking of writing a fic about her adventures and her conquering but that would be after I finished this fic.


	2. The King-Beyond-the-Wall

"We should head back," Dawin said to his cousin.

"Hush!" Qarl turned to him and angrily put his fingers to his own lips before turning his attention back to the tracks they found.

"We had the elk, Qarl. Please, let's go home," he pleaded once more.

They were hunting the animal just this morning and a good half of the afternoon, they followed it until they reached beyond the big hills of ice. But when they found the elk, it was already dead. He knew then that something was wrong, there are no visible weapons that killed the elk. No arrows, a dagger, or even markings left by a spear. There was not even a single stab wound that would give any indication that the animal was killed except for its broken, limp neck. Whatever killed the animal, it was precise and swift.

That was when he noticed the strange markings on the snow just a few feet away from the dead animal. Dawin wished now that he should have shut his mouth up. But no, he was stupid as a mammoth, he had to point it out to Qarl. His cousin was a ranger, as he always wanted to remind him. Rangers look for threats, his cousin said. But he's not a ranger, not at all. He's a boy of three and ten and he, Dawin was only ten. He wanted to impress the White Wolf, Dawin knew. Qarl wanted to be like him someday, he would often say. He wanted to be a crow, then a King and ride a dragon and then bed a queen. The last one appeals to Qarl more, Dawin knew. Qarl's mother saw the Dragon Queen South of the Wall, in Winterfell. She said she was the most beautiful thing she ever saw. Her skin and hair was as fair as snow, as well as her teeth, and her eyes were the color of the sky before the sun rises, a color of violet but dark, almost black in color, but beautiful. Dawin's father said the same, he told them the stories of how he survived the Long Night and the valor of their King and the beauty of his Queen, then his father died and Dawin was only left by the tales from his Aunt Lara. His father was a great man, the White Wolf said so himself as they burn his father's body on a pyre. But Dawin started to doubt it when the boys at the camp started to tease him; _Your father was so great he survived the undead only to die after being strike down by a single_ _arrow._

Dawin sighed and looked once more to his kneeling cousin ready to plead again. But Qarl stood up and started walking once more. He does that often, he would kneel and study the tracks then walked and follow it. That left Dawin nothing to do but follow Qarl, he doesn't want to be left alone after all. He dragged the makeshift sled behind him where the elk's body was tied securely and followed his cousin until they reach the edge of the cliff.

There the tracks ended as if it jumped or fell from the cliff. They both looked below.

"That's one hell of a jump," Qarl whistles.

His cousin speaks truth, that's over thirthy feet of a fall, but still, thirty feet does not matter if the snow is thick and freshly fallen, some men in the camp says they survive a higher fall by landing on snow, but the ground below is all rocks and the snow is harden. No one would have survived such a fall.

"Well, our prey is dead, best we go home now." Dawin said happily to his cousin and pulled on his sleeves.

"Did you see a body below, cousin?" Qarl said with that voice he would like to use to him very often, that voice that would make him feel stupid.

Dawin did not want to look down again to see. Qarl doesn't know it, but he felt uncomfortable looking down from high places. If his cousin knew, he knows that Qarl will tease him until his ears turned to ashes from embarrassment.

"T-The snow might have covered it, Qarl. Come on, let's go home." Dawin pulled once more at his cousin's sleeves but he didn't budge at all nor did he replied to him.

That's when he noticed that Qarl was still looking below with his mouth hanging open and his eyes glazed as if he just saw something beautiful. Curious as to what had caused his cousin to look that way, he steels himself to look down. And there he saw something moved.

He pulled harder on his cousin's sleeves and forces him to go down and lay on his stomach. He did, but his eyes never left that thing below. A smile slowly crept on Qarl's face and Dawin slowly looked down and saw clearly what his cousin was seeing.

Her hair was white, as white as the snow where she walked. Her skin was pale as milk, so pale it was almost blue in color. She was wearing a thin fabric that sways on her every move as if the cloth itself was made of the wind. The Dragon Queen, that's the first thought that came to his mind.

Then a sound came from behind him and a wind so cold and bitter it made his bones shiver hit them, but it was the scream that made all his hairs stood up. He looked back and saw the elk. The dead elk moving, struggling against the ropes that tied it to the sled. He slowly walked to the sled, steeling himself once more. _I'm a ranger, a ranger is never afraid._ He kept saying in his head over and over while pulling a small knife from his belt. Knife in hand, he walked once more, his prayer repeating over and over in his head. _I'm a ranger._ Then he remembered he is not a ranger, he is a boy and the one who wanted to be a ranger anyway was Qarl. All thoughts disappeared from his mind when he finally saw it. Blue was its eyes when he knew that elk's don't have blue eyes. He dropped his knife and fell backwards, landing on his buttocks. He felt his breeches getting warmer and he smelt the salty smell of urine. He piss himself.

"Qarl!" he begins to shout as he crawl backwards to his cousin.

He looked back and Qarl was still there laying where he left him. Dawin stood up and ran back to him and pulled him up, that was when he made the mistake to look below once more. The woman, the Dragon Queen that is not, was looking up at them. She's beautiful, he admits, but those eyes, even from afar there was no mistaking it, it was blue all of it, with no white. It's all blue. He pulled on Qarl once more, but his cousin pushed him away, seemingly irritated. Then he jumps.

Dawin screamed as he saw his cousin's body hit the hard snow and rocks below. He heard its crunch as his body hit the ground, it echoes in his head, that sound. He started to cry, hot streaming tears where on his face, freezing almost from the cold. _Why was it so cold?_ Then he stopped when he saw the woman walked towards Qarl's wrecked body. Dawin watched as the woman lifted his cousin's head and kissed it. Qarl started to move. _He's alive, the Dragon Queen saved him!_ Then Qarl stood up and the smile that was there on Dawin's face slowly changed to a look of horror. Qarl's legs are bent in a different angle, his left shoulder was dangling from its sockets. Then the woman, the blue woman lifted her head once more, so does Qarl. And it's blue. Qarl's eyes are green, dark green. Why is it blue now? It was a long way below, but there was no mistaking it, that glow on his cousin's eyes. Dawin shifted his attention to the woman. He can see it, the woman was smiling at him.

That started him running. Then he remembered the sled as he passed by it. He looked down at the struggling creature tied on it and decided to pull on it with all his strength. He ran and ran as hard and as fast as he can, crying all along for the loss of his friend and cousin. _Qarl is not dead._ Repeating over and over in his head followed by the sound of his cousin's body hitting the ground.

He did not know how many hours it was when he finally saw men walking towards him. He can't feel his hands from the cold, nor his feet, the one dragging the cart felt numb as well and limp. He wanted to sleep but the woman's smile and the way the woman woke his cousin kept him awake and running and running even when his lungs felt it was about to burst and his legs started to buckle. He run past the men, sobbing all the while.

"Qarl, Qarl, Qarl." He sobbed over and over. One of the men grabbed him, that made him scream. He struggled. Thinking of Qarl, thinking of what he became. No, he won't be one. He won't be one.

"I won't be one!" he started screaming, punching and scratching but the man holding him was strong.

The other man, the companion of the one holding him cursed.

"Gods be good...they're back."

"We must tell the King." The one holding him said and Dawin started to relax.

The King-Beyond-the-Wall, the White Wolf will know what to do. Then he fainted.

Xxxxxxxxxx

Jon kneeled and looked closely at the elk that the boy brought back. The men that found the boy decided to bring both him and the elk directly at Jon's tent as discreetly as possible, which he was grateful. He does not want to cause panic.

"Who else knows?" Tormund asks the men.

"Us and the boy."

Jon raised his head and looked at the scared faces of the two men in front of him. He remembered that these were the scouts he ordered to track the movements of the Thenns.

"The boy's cousin?" he struggled to remember the name of both the boys, but there are a lot of boys in the camp, he can't possibly remember them all. He only remembered that the boy laying on his cot always follows his cousin. They were thick as thieves, they would say to him.

The two scouts looked at each other before shaking their heads.

"T'boy was alone when we found him and he was turned mad, You' Grace."

He was about to correct the man. He was no king, no more, when Tormund interrupted his thoughts.

"What d'you mean mad?"

"He was struggling, Giantsbane. He punched me and scratched at me and he was screamin' a name." The man with dark hair and beard says.

The moment he saw the scratched face of the scout he thought that he had gotten in a fight with a Thenn. He thought that the wildling cannibals are nearer the camp as he feared, then they brought in the animal with them and the boy and Jon had wished for a Thenn then. Whatever the boy had seen it was enough to turn him feral. Enough to turn anyone feral. He looked at the sleeping form of the boy. He was so small.

"T'boy was screamin' 'Qarl'. And 'I won't be one' over and over." The other man said.

Jon closed his eyes and looked at the elk once more. The men was wise enough to tie the elk's snout, they said it was emitting a loud scream that could rouse the whole camp. Jon looked at its eyes. Yes, how can he forget these eyes?

He stood up and looked at the men in front of him.

"A word of this will not come out of this tent. We can't let them know. Not yet."

The two men looked at each other before nodding.

"What about the boy's Aunt?" Tormund whispered at him.

"No one will know until I say so."

Tormund nodded rather hesitantly. Jon turned to the men in front of him who was looking curiously at him and Tormund.

"Do you still have it?"

"What, Your Grace?" the black bearded man asked.

"Dragonglass."

Xxxxxxxxxx

Jon made sure all the elders of the remaining tribes were there on the tent. Mance's tent. Not for the first time it made Jon wonder what the former King-Beyond-the-Wall would think of him taking his place as King and using his tent as well. He shakes his head. It will not do to dwell in the thoughts of the dead.

Jon called for a meeting in a pretense of making borders to protect themselves against the Thenns, he did not want to take risks and let the whole camp knew about the the greater threat they were all facing. The less they know the safer they are. Jon knew what some of them will do, they would run, disband from camp, probably thinking that the less of them out there means safety, believing that the Others only attack the plenty. But they needed to stay together or they all die.

The boy was still at his tent, and as the elders slowly fill it, their eyes would stray at the boy, but none ask. There was one elder though who knitted his brow in recognition of the boy. The boy probably belongs to his tribe, but he did not ask as well. The boy was huddled in the corner, he was awake now but Jon was afraid of how his eyes are glazed over, as if the boy, Dawin, was sleeping with his eyes open. He also sustained a dislocated arm for dragging the sled alone and for how long an hour he ran with it. It was now tended with by the camp healer and the sled was now hidden behind Jon with his cloak covering it. The boy's Aunt was not yet informed about the faith of her son, she was probably worried now, but Jon must keep the secret for as long as he can even if the woman turned mad by worry.

"Men, do sit down. We had a lot to discuss, but first we must fill our bellies," Jon says while crossing his legs to the floor. The others do the same.

They were served roasted venison, but looking at it made Jon's stomach almost turn, remembering the thing tied behind him. But he still eats it nonetheless then drowned it with strong ale. Thinking all the while; _Deer not elk._

As all of them was done eating dinner Jon decided that it would be the time to tell the truth.

"Men, I have lied to you," Jon admits as he put the bone of his venison down. He lied to save them he knew, but that doesn't make him feel any better.

"I assumed much, your Grace," an old man of the Hornfoot said while wiping his mouth with his sleeve. "You looked like a bloody maiden on her first night fidgetin' there."

It was Tormund who laughed first and loudly, the others followed. When they're done making fun of him, the man of the Ice River clan seriously looked at him.

"The Thenns are nearer than we feared aren't they?"

That caused the others' looks darken. The Thenns turned on them the moment they were out there in the true North, picking their hunters one by one, then almost ten years ago the Thenns attacked them in the night. They managed to get by, some died, even the boy's father and Jon killed the Magnar of Thenn himself, earning him the title he did not want to have nor he deserved.

_Let's rule together..._Her sweet voice pervades his consciousness once more.

_Jon Snow_, she moaned in his ears at the heat of their coupling.

He shaked his head. _You're dead, Dany_.

Dead. But he knows she's not. She's alive, ruling there on her new kingdom with their child, a daughter.

"Your Grace," someone distracts him, for that he was grateful.

"It is not about the Thenns, elders." He tried to say without breaking his voice.

He tried to master his emotions once more. He always gets emotional when he remembered the family he had on the other side of the world. The family he killed with a knife.

"Then what is it? Don't tell me you managed to choose which woman you'll marry? Was it my daughter?"

He shook his head. The farce of choosing a wife.

_'Jon Snow,'_ she whispered in his ears once more dragging him to sweet memories of their first.

No. He faught with it, and faught with it hard. How can he marry, how can he look for another when every woman he meets pale in comparison to the Dragon Queen? What with her silver-blonde hair, her smooth flawless skin, her beautiful mouth, those eyes, her perfect sweet-smelling body and gods how well she uses it to please him.

_Damn it, Dany._

"No," he said with a shake of his head. "I had graver news than choosing an unlucky woman who I know I'll disappoint greatly."

The elders started to contradict him. He did not know his words would cause such a commotion.

"Don't be like that!"

"Any woman would be lucky ta have you, your Grace!"

He was growing impatient by this. He locked eyes with Tormund who nodded to him in return.

"They are back, elders."

That caused the men to silence. They looked at him, confusion written all over their faces.

"The Others are back."

"No," the oldest one in the tent shook his head in denial. "No, they're dead. Some of you were there. You saw them crumbled down."

The elders murmured in agreement.

"I would like to say the same my Lords. But this morning two of our scouts that I sent northward came back not with the news of the Thenn camp, but with this boy," he pointed at Dawin who was still unmoved where he sat with those glassy eyes. "And this..."

Tormund manages to pull the sled and put it in the center of the circle where Jon and the elders were sitting. He pulled the cloak off and showed the men the undead the boy brought back.

The elders looked at the unmoving animal, then looked at Jon, as if waiting for him to tell them it's all a jape. Then one elder stood up and kneeled closer at the animal, right at its tied snout. He looked at the men beside him with a smirk when the elk opened its eyes and struggled with the ropes that bind it. The man fell down on his buttocks, the other elders crawled backwards, others stood up and unsheathed their swords, there are some who remained seated but with absolute horror visible on their faces as they look at the blue eyes of the elk.

"This can't be," the old man mutters on his seat. Petrified to even move or drew his sword.

Jon was about to say something when the boy talks.

"It took Qarl," the boy said barely a whisper. "It's a woman. The Dragon Queen."

Jon's heart faltered then restarts again to beat twice faster than normal.

"What?" he stammers. Jon stood up and all the elders were looking at him now.

The boy raised his head and looked at him.

"Qarl's mother, my Aunt Lara told us about the Dragon Queen so does Father. They both said she had white hair and white skin. The woman that took Qarl looks the same, but not the same."

Only their breathing and the whisper of the night winds are the only thing their ears can hear.

"What d'you mean boy," Tormund grew impatient by the boy's silence.

He wanted to growl at the child as well but he knew that will only scare him so all Jon did was just patiently wait for the boy to continue his story.

The boy looked up at them.

"T-The woman's skin is pale like ice. It looks blue. And the eyes are blue, all blue too. Q-Qarl jumped the cliff to be with her. The woman kissed Qarl then Qarl was alive, but not alive. Qarl's eyes are green not blue."

Jon felt he was transported back in time, back when he was a boy living in a castle with his half-siblings laying on the carpet with him as Old Nan told them the story of the Night's King and his wife. The Night's Queen. He remembered the same tale when he was once a man of the Night's Watch. The Nightford stood there to testify that there were truths on the tales he heard as a boy and now as a man he unearthed another evidence that there are more truth in the tales he knew.

"Gods be good." One of the elders said.

"We need to leave."

"We need to tell the camp!"

That snaps Jon from his thoughts.

"My Lords," he said quietly but none of them seems to have heard him. There are some who was preparing to leave.

"My Lords!" he shouted. Jon know they were no Lords but he also knew they liked being called as such despite their denials. That caught their attention pretty quick.

He remembered what his father...his uncle had told him about Kings. _A King must posses a voice that the people will listen to._ He used that voice now.

"I would like to ask for your forgiveness for hiding it from the whole camp. I had no other choice. There are some who will fled the moment they saw...this. We need to stay together to survive. The first one who will left the camp will be the first casualties. Some of you would think, running was wiser. And that is true, but if we want to run, we will run together. To South."


	3. A Dream of Spring

The Three Eyed-Raven opened his eyes, his mortal eyes and looked around him. It was night and someone had put him in his bed. He released a breath. I should have known. Sixteen years and there was no sign of Summer ever coming back. Sam told him that Spring has come. Sam said that the seasons are often erratic in Westeros and it was no surprise that the spring is as much as long as the ten years of winter. But he was wrong. Spring has never come. It was still winter. But the Night King is dead, reduced to nothing but a pile of snow in the ground. Then he gasped. How can he, the Three Eyed Raven can ever be so wrong? Fear started to grip his heart. He does not feel fear. But now he does, once more.

_The Great Other. _

He felt his breathing goes faster and faster. _Stop_, he told himself. He breathed deeply. Then he grabbed the bell beside his bed, disregarding the shake his hand was making, and rang it. Before it reaches three rings the door from his chamber opens. It was Podrick who came inside with his white cloak and armor.

"Your Grace?"

"Assemble the Council."

Ser Podrick looked at him dumbfoundedly and was about to remind him perhaps of the hour when he decided against it. He merely offered a bow then left with a worried 'Your Grace' and closed the door.

Xxxxxxxxxx

Tyrion was on his books when Podrick came to his solar. Ser Podrick now, he thought as he saw the white armor and cloak of his former squire. His heart almost burst with pride. He knew he has little to no credit on Pod's achievements but he felt proud all the same.

"Why Ser Pod--" Tyrion happily greets the Knight then stopped when he noticed the scared look on his face. "What is it?"

"The King has called for the council, Lord Hand." Podrick bowed his head and busied himself with his sword belt, a nervous gesture he never seems to forget.

"At this hour? It's the hour of the wolf!" Tyrion said, surprised. Then he remembered the last time the King called for an emergency meeting.

It was when Daenerys...the Mad Queen came back from the dead.

Tyrion jumped down from his stool and close his book. He didn't even bother to memorize the page he was on.

"What happened?"

"The King didn't say anything but he looks scared, my Lord."

Tyrion would have laughed by the sheer unlikeliness of what Podrick had said but he saw his face and he knew this was no laughing matter.

"Rouse all the members, I'll be on the council chamber in a minute."

Pod nodded and turned to the door and out of it in a second. He was about to close it when Tyrion called for him. Pod sticks his head inside the room and looked at him, waiting for instruction.

"Fill the council chamber with wine. I have a feeling that I'm not the only one who will need it."

Xxxxxxxx

The Three Eyed-Raven looked at the faces of his councillors. Some of them were yawning or rubbing their eyes. Only his Lady Commander and his Lord Hand are the ones sober enough by the looks of them, but sadly Tyrion was rectifying that by drowning himself with wine.

"Winter is still here." He begun.

As expected it was Sam who contradicted him first.

"Your Grace, I beg your pardon but--"

He cuts him off by giving him a look. He had gone tired of his Grandmaester's explanations.

"It is just the long Spring, is that what you're going to say?"

Sam bowed his head and muttered unintelligible words.

The Three-Eyed Raven focuses his attention once more to the people around him. His Master of Coins yawns, while the Master of Ships sips on his goblet uncaring of what was just said. The Master of Whisperers just looked at him, mouth gaping with eyelids ready to drop in any minute.

"Your Grace, what is it that you saw?" it was Tyrion who asked him the most obvious question. For all his flaws, Tyrion can use logic and common sense.

"The Others are back."

He heard a gasp, from someone in the room, probably Brienne. He did not lift his head to confirm it.

"How?"

"What?"

"Others? What Others?"

"Where?"

He lifted his head and told them what he saw. All of them, the army, the boy and the woman, the storm coming that is larger and accomulating faster beyond the wall, at the Land of Always Winter as they speak.

"They never left at all. Those things we've killed almost seventeen years ago was just a diversion. A way to make us lax."

Silence envelopes the council chamber. Then a cold winter wind blows at them from the open windows. He watched as the people around him shivered.

"Why did you just saw this now, Your Grace? Why just now?" it was Tyrion. He sounds accusatory and he can't blame him.

"I was preoccupied. The Great Other knows it, I'm sure. I was trying to break through whatever Fire magic the Dragon Queen has cast beyond the narrow sea...and...I...I was fooled to believe that the thing Arya Stark killed will end all of this."

That Dragon's blood would end all of this.

He was wrong. So wrong. The Night King was just a pawn to prod their defenses. The true war was not yet ready seventeen years ago, now, he had bought Him the time He needed. The wife is a testament to that. The wives never leave the side of the Great Other, now it roams freely beyond the wall. The giants too, only a handful attacked that night when he knew there will be a thousand, he should have known.

"The war that will happen will be the biggest war the realm will ever see and I'm not sure if the realm will ever survive it this time."

"Forgive me Your Grace, I was not there when you fought this...Others, but I heard stories and I've asked Grandmaester Sam about the Long Night," his Master of Whisperers--the only foreign man in the room--gestured to the Grandmaester. "Why don't we just do what you did those long years ago, only do it in a larger scale?"

Lord Aurane Waters nodded in agreement.

"Lord Tyrion, it was obsidian that killed the...undead was it not?" The Master of Ships asked.

His Hand nodded and filled his goblet with more wine.

Lord Aurane looks sober enough now and apparently he spilled his wine over his tunic base on the stains on it. He looks pensive though, he apparently thought about a plan.

"You're trying to propose what, my Lord?" Tyrion asked, guessing the look on the young Lord's face.

"I propose that we arm every single living people in Westeros with obsidian. All the soldiers even the civilians, send all the population of Westeros to the North, your problems are solved." The young Lord said with a pound of his fist in the table.

"First of all, let me remind you, Lord Aurane that you are part of the small council, it is OUR problem now. Second, we don't have evidences for the other Lords to fight for us. We had nothing except the words of King Bran. The Stormlands will support us, I'm sure of it, the Riverlands too if Lady Sansa begs enough to his uncle, the Vale no doubt will help, but the Iron Islands? Dorne? Even the Reach are not friendly enough after the appointment of Ser Bronn as the Lord of Highgarden and Lord Paramount of the Reach." Tyrion gestured at his up-jumped sellsword friend. "And if the King was right about it being bigger than the war seventeen years ago, we cannot afford a fight amongst ourselves. We can't just go to the kingdoms and force them to fight with us. And the civilians? We will be handing over the whole population of Westeros to...whoever that was beyond the wall."

"Then let them be," Bronn said, anger was concealed on his bored voice. He was still affected by the Lords of the Reach's treatment of him for sure. "Let the Lords sit on their castles and when we win the war we will pluck whoever those who disregards the summons of the King."

"If we win, Lord Bronn." The Three Eyed-Raven reminded him.

"We had limitless supply of Dragonglass in Dragonstone," Bronn said with a shrug.

"We have no dragons."

That induces another silence.

"With all due respect, Your Grace," Ser Brienne broke the silence. "The dragons did not do much in battle. Sure, they burn the dead but--"

"I was not aware you were blind Ser Brienne. The dragons did not only help us that night by burning the army of the dead, it keeps the storm at bay. The Dragon Queen was the reason why the Great Other was hesitant in bringing all His army. Why do you think there are only a handful of giants that night?"

"Giants," the Master of Whisperers whimpered.

"Huh, didn't know the Dragon Queen helped the Realm that much," Lord Aurane was talking to Sam, who apparently did not tell the young Lord all there is about the Long Night.

"I had a proposition my Lords, Ser," Tyrion bowed in acknowledgement to the Lady Knight. "Your Grace," his Hand bowed to him last.

"What is it, my Lord?"

Xxxxxxxxxx

They lasted all the night and a good half of the morning too in planning. They had a brief respite when the servants brought them bread, bacon, and boiled eggs to break their fast only to resume once more when they had finished.

"...we just need to decide where we will held the Great--" Tyrion was interrupted when the door of the chamber opened and a servant came.

"Forgive me, Your Grace, my Lords but the Commander of the City Watch has requested audience with you."

"We are currently discussing the future of the realm, we are not to be--" Ser Brienne stopped when the King raised his hand and nodded to the servant.

"Relax Ser, we needed a few rest after all." Lord Aron offered a smile at the knight which she did not returned.

The lack of sleep was getting all in their nerves, the Three Eyed-Raven knew. That and the fact that the realm may not survive this war.

"Your Grace, Commander Gerold Crest." The servant introduced the tall, red-headed man, then bowed as he closed the door.

"Your Grace," the young Commander of the Gold Cloaks knelt.

"Rise, commander."

"What is it my Lord that made you interrupt our discussion of how to save the realm?" Lord Tyrion says with sarcasm on his voice directed mainly on Ser Brienne.

Commander Crest shifted uncomfortably. "Forgive me, my Lords, my La--" then he caught the eye of Ser Brienne and changed tact immediately. "Ser," he bowed to her then turned his attention to Tyrion instead.

"But my men found...something in the bay early this morning. I thought you might want to see it, my Lords. Your Grace."

Something was wrong he felt it instantly. He turned his eyes, the eyes of one thousand and one to the bay. There he saw it. Them. Lined in five rows, a hundred in a column. He did not count it. He knew. Five hundred. Then he noticed it there at the fiftieth column on the first row, a standard was buried in the ground, attached to it were two banners, dancing in the wind. He opened his mortal eyes and he was back to the chamber once more.

"What is it your Grace?"

"Bodies."


	4. Valyria

**Sixteen years ago**

'You are my Queen...' someone whispered to her ears.

"Who's there?"

'Now and always.'

She opened her eyes to look for the man who owns the voice. He sounds so sad... so sad it made her eyes tear up. She looked around her. She was on a place she was not familiar with. The place, which seems to be a city it was all red and black and warm, too warm. Then she noticed where she was standing. She was on black, cracked road and on those cracks, liquid flames seeps out. She gasped as it lapped on her feet, it does not hurt but it was warm. The warmest she ever felt. She circled around, only then did she noticed the chaos around her. Buildings with absolute beauty were crumbling around her, then she heard the screams. It was as if she was deaf and only experienced hearing. It rushed to her ears and right through her brain all at once, overwhelming her. She clutched her ears to block the noise, but it was too much. How can she not hear those shouts, those screams of pain, the moment she opened her eyes? As she did a full circle her eyes glimpsed a shape of a little girl from the smoke. She was not far from her.

"Mother."

Dany was not sure but she thinks the girl cried in High Valyrian.

As the smoke was blown away by a wind, Dany saw the girl. She was small, about four or three years old. The girl had a hair similar to her, silver-blonde and she was sobbing. It made Dany's heart ache that she started to walk towards her, but as she comes nearer, a man with the same fair hair suddenly run past Dany and rushed over the girl. The man's arm accidentally made contact on the girl's small shoulder and it made the child stumbled then fell down. The man did not even look back. Daenerys ran then, to help the child when suddenly the cracked road shakes then gave way and out of it was a wall of fire separating her from the child. Another scream entered her ears. A scream of the burning girl. It stopped the moment it started and what was left of the child, Daenerys knew, was nothing but a pile ashes. She looked around once more, fire envelopes the whole city, liquid fires most of it, then a great shadow and a familiar shriek made her looked up.

A dragon. She thought.

She saw the great beast, it was huge. Bigger than the ones she knew. Knew? Her head started to pound, she does not know she knew dragons. Then the beast shrieked once more. A scream of pain she was familiar with. She heard that more than once before. She looked up once more and watched as the beast burned its wings then a great column of fire devours it, wings, tails, all of it. It feels wrong, fire cannot hurt a dragon. She knew. But now she was not sure anymore. The ground quake once more and cracks bigger than the one earlier threaten to buckle her down. She decided to jump to the floating part of the road where she was standing before and felt glad that she did, for in a matter of seconds that whole road crumbled down and all the buildings within its vicinity as well.

She slowly stood up from her little island. Everywhere her eyes touched was all destruction and fire. The noises, the shouts rang still in her head, screams of help and names and words, the scream of the little girl was still echoing through her making her tremble. And the smell. The smell of ash and burning flesh.

King's Landing. She thought.

What? Where? What was that? Was it a place?

Then a sound so different from the one she was hearing distracts her from the thing she was trying to remember. It was not a scream. It was a song. Her head turned to the one producing such an entrancing sound. It was from her far right. It was coming form a kneeling man with white hair so long, the longest she had ever seen. The man's head was bowed down and he was holding something. The man's forehead touched the thing he was cradling, only then did Dany noticed that the thing has dragon wings. That wasn't right. The voice sounds like it was coming from a girl. Dany wished to see, as she thought of that, the floating stone where she was standing moved nearer and nearer to the man, eager to fulfill her wish. She was close enough now to see when her little island stopped moving. Then what she saw made her gasp. It was not the fact that the man was the most beautiful thing she ever saw, but the fact that the man was kneeling on nothing but flames. The flames which it seems to be coming from the man himself. The flames that seems to fuel all the fires her eyes can touch. Then she saw the thing the man was holding, if she thought he was shocking it was nothing compared to the girl he was cradling. She had dragon wings on her back. The song too, was coming from her. The girl was holding the man's face with care and they were looking at each others eyes with so much love that Dany's heart started to hurt with envy. The girl smiled then and whispered the last words of the song to the man before closing her eyes, her hands slowly slid down the man's face then fell limp on her side.

The girl was dead. Dany knew that much.

Dany watched as the man lifted up his face to the sky and then produced the most heart wrenching scream she ever heard. A scream full of pain and sadness and loss, silencing all the noises around her. When the man was done venting his pain, he stood up with the body of his lover on his arms, his beautiful face was crumpled in fury. He lifted his eyes and surveyed all his surroundings with disdain. Dany noticed the flames going hotter and hotter and the liquid fire all around her going higher and higher. Then multiple explosions happened simultaneously that made Dany cower and hold her ears. If the screams and the destruction of huge structures was loud, those was nothing compared to the sound the whole island was emitting now.

Then she heard a voice. It was unusual because she thought she cannot hear from all the destruction around her, but it seems the voice was coming from the fires, from all of them.

"Wretched. Vile. I gave them life. I gave them light."

She opened her eyes and she saw the man, or the resemblance of him for where the beautiful man was once standing, now stood a creature made of fire. The only thing that made Dany sure it was the same man was the girl's dead body who was still laying in her lover's now fiery arms. The body did not turn to ash as it was supposed to be in such heat, as if the girl's body itself was immune to fire.

"My Lightbringer." The voice says once more with pain and absolute sadness.

Then the man burst into a red, black and gold wildfyre. It was warm--the warmest that she ever felt, the most painful of heat--that Dany felt her skin burned and her blood brought to a boil in her veins, she felt her flesh melt like tallows and her bones started to cracked.

As she burned, everything rushed back to her. All that she did, all the ones she had lost, all the things done to her, all the pain and suffering and rejection and betrayal, she remembered it once more. And the most painful of all, his kiss and the stab of his knife through her heart. The burning sensation she felt was too powerful and overwhelming that her heart was slowly numbing, but the pain of her losses was not forgotten, it was still there, deep in her heart, branding her of all the people she had lost along the way, searing her with the things she had sacrificed. She will not forget.

But the pain, the heat, it was too much. She gave up. _Let me die and be done with it. __Let it cleanse me._ She thought. _Burn all of it away. The pain, the loss, the loneliness, the anger, the feeling of betrayal. All of it. Burn them all._

When the pain stopped she knew she was dead and she was glad. There was nothing more purer than to die by flames.

Instead she did not die.

Xxxxxxxxxx

She gasped as she opened her eyes, she sat up from where she was laying and she remembered everything.

_You are my Queen..._

She gasped a shaky breath then looked down at her chest but instead of finding the scar her lover left her she noticed something else. She was on fire. Her entire body is on fire. Red, black and golden flames. The man's fire.

"My Queen," a woman's voice caught her attention and she looked at her side and she saw her.

She was wearing the red robes and ruby necklace of a Red Priestess. She remembered someone, another woman who wears the same garments.

_Melisandre._

The woman in front of her was not the priestess she knew, of course, Melisandre was dead, isn't she? This new priestess was pretty with eyes as green as emeralds and she was looking at her with awe and something else, the kind of look a worshipper would look at her god. She's looking at her with veneration. Then the priestess lowered her eyes and knelt.

"Oh, Queen of Queens we are at your mercy." The Priestess said, then voices echoed around her to Dany's surprise.

She looked around and she saw more than a dozen men and women bowing to her as she sat on what seems to be an altar placed in the center of a great room. She wished she was not naked as all of those people gawked at her and how she wished the flames would stop. She pulled her knees to her chest and hugs her legs to give her a certain amount of privacy and protection as well.

"Where am I?" She was surprised by the sound of her voice. She was expecting it to be nothing but a croak but what she heard can't be her voice surely? It sounds so...normal. It sounds nothing like the voice of a person who rose up from the dead.

Then she remembered.

She was scared to look down to the mark she knew that will be there, she felt her heart beat fast though, which was a relief. She was breathing too, a fast gasps of breath. She was alive and she was starting to panic, she knew she wasn't supposed to be...breathing.

_...now and always._

"You are in Volantis, Queen of Queens, at the Temple of the Lord of Light." The woman said as she stood up with grace from where she knelt and looked at her once more with that awed expression. Dany wished she would stop looking at her like that.

"Why?" Dany asked, she did not even know what she was asking. There are too much in her head. Her past and the dream she had of a place long ago, a place she cannot name but she felt she ought to know.

She started to tremble as she remembered the dream and the things she did before she died. She hugged herself tighter. Is it possible to feel cold when you are in flames? It seems that you can. Atleast that was what she felt.

"My Queen," the Red Priestess tried to comfort her by touching her arm but she only got near her skin by an inch when she wrenched her hand back and hissed with pain.

Dany looked up to see that the hand the Red Priestess tried to touch her with were red from burns. The other priests and priestesses are standing now and looking at the hand of their...friend with what seems to be envy.

"Why am I here?" she decided to ask.

_One at a time, Dany._ She said to herself. _One at a time._

"Your dragon brought you here my Queen," the Red Priestess answered her once more. She hid her now injured hand on the sleeves of her robes, she was fine by the looks of her, if Dany didn't knew any better the woman looks exhilarated by the injury.

Dragon. Yes, the last of her child. Drogon, named after her husband.

"Why am I here?" she asked again.

"Y-Your Grace?"

She looked up, the Priestess looks worried now.

"What is your name?"

The Priestess' eyes cleared and a pleased smile showed on her lips.

"Kinvara is my name, Queen of Queens, I am the First Priestess in the Temple of the Lord of Light."

Dany nodded.

"Kinvara, why am I here?"

Kinvara's smile faltered once more.

_She must think I'm mad, asking the same questions,_ she thought, so she rephrase her query.

"I'm dead. I know that, I felt it, I remembered it. Why am I here?"

"My Queen I--"

"You will be saying that the Lord of Light brought me back and he still has need of me, is that it?" Dany said.

She was angry now. For what, even she did not know, but she knew one thing: it's better be angry rather than be scared.

"He brought him back to life too. The man who did this to me," Dany pointed at her chest where she still felt the stab the man she loved inflicted upon her. "Is this his destiny, to kill me? Did he brought him back for the sole purpose of killing me, his family, his lover, his Queen when all of the things I ever wanted was within my grasp?"

She was shouting now and she must have looked menacing for almost all the men and women around her started backing away from her. Only then did she noticed that the flame that envelopes her body like a second skin was now spreading around her form like an aura. What was once flames of three colors now was only red. Angry, fiery red.

"And how do I make this stop!" She shouts, pertaining the irritating flames that she does not know how to control.

"Calm down my Queen--"

"Queen? Queen of Nothing! That's what I am! That's what he made me!" she can't even say his name. She can't. It hurts.

_You are my Queen..._

Then she started to sob.

_Your are my Queen..._

_...not Dany then. How about my Queen?_

"All those people, dead. Jorah, my sons...Missandei," her voice cracked as she remembered her dear friend.

_Dracarys!_

"And even before that, my brother, the one they call the Last Dragon, my niece and nephew, my mother and father, my son Rhaego, Drogo, Ser Barristan. All of them, dead. But not a single one of them was given a chance to come back. Why me? Why did your Lord choose a murderer?"

She heard the screams once more and the sound of a bell echoing in her head, but it was her friend's last words and the sound of her disembodied head hitting the ground that was louder than all the noises, the most painful. She murdered her friend as well, her sweet Missandei, dead because of her pride, because of her greed. Then she remembered her dear Bear, her Jorah with his sword in his hands, shielding her, protecting her until he was laying on the ground and it was her who tried to protect him. _He died in my arms, the arms of a woman who never loved him the way he was supposed to be loved._ Her fault. Rhaegal and Viserion, all her fault. All of it.

She felt weak now. Defeated. Tired. _Why me?_ She asked once more. _I'm done with all the pain, did I not suffer enough for my sins?_

"He could have chosen my brother Rhaegar, why me? Have I not atoned enough for all the sins I have made? Is my life and the life of everyone I ever loved not enough to pay the price?"

"My Queen, I don't know," Kinvara said with a sad shake of her head. "Only the Lord of Light knows the answers to all your concerns. But I know one thing. Your purpose has not yet been fulfilled."

Dany looked up at the Priestess. She was vaguely aware the light around her was now abating, turning mellow and light in color, turning back to its normal colors of three.

"I don't want his purpose." Dany said looking directly at the emerald eyes of the woman in front of her.

I want peace. The vision of a house with a red door with lemons outside her window enters her mind once more.

"Even when your purpose is already there inside your womb?"

Xxxxxxxxxx

**Present**

It was true. Five hundred bodies laying perfectly on the bay. Brienne never understood the power of magic nor does she believed in it, but experiencing and seeing all those things, from dragons, to walking undead armies, to the King who sees all makes any skeptic a firm believer. But believing was very much more easier than understanding.

Brienne looked at the King beside her. He was sitting regally on his mare, or should she say, strapped on. The King is crippled. Bran the Broken the common folk calls him. But sitting there, if you looked past the belts that tied him to his saddle and you would forget the fact that he called himself The Three-Eyed Raven you'll find the King as ordinary as a young man could be. He's comely, Brienne admits but there were something about the way he looked or the way his face was set that made him looked something more than a man...something unexplainable.

And he is, Brienne thought.

She looked at the bodies once more and then to the flowing banners attached to an iron pole at the top of the first row, right at the middle of a path which she believes the purpose was for approaching the said standard. Lord Tyrion, Podrick, King Bran and her was watching as the Gold Cloaks try to unearth the pole to bring it to the King. To burn it? She does not know what the King wants with it. But first they must get the pole out. There are more and more small folks knowing about the incident, the Gold Cloaks are trying to hold some spectators back but there are some who managed to get a good look at the banners even before the King and his companions visited the site. Soon, the whole realm will know.

"Why not just rip the goddamn thing off!" It was Lord Tyrion, probably losing his patience as he looked at the sigil of the House he formerly served.

She watched as the men tried to rip the first banner, the one situated below the red dragon of House Targaryen. She watched as the men screams in horror as their gauntlets burst in to flame as they touched the twelve headed dragon banners. This happened for a lot now, apparently the pole, including the banners was cursed. Anyone who touched it, burns. Lord Tyrion ordered the men to wear thicker gloves but, it has no use apparently. That second banner, though, she's not familiar with it. Twelve headed dragon with different colors on each head, all of them breathing fire on white background. None of them was familiar with it, not even Lord Tyrion and she knew that unsettled him.

"Away," the King said. The Gold Cloaks bowed to the King and walked to the side.

Brienne looked at him as he urged his horse down to the path. She and the others followed behind the King. Brienne noticed how perfectly the path was measured. As if it was really made for one horse and rider and only an enough room to turn a horse around. As they tread behind the king she can't ignore the fact that the bodies are perfectly well tended. There are no visible blood on their armors, there are those who had stab lines marring it but otherwise the dead were given a proper burial service. Even their swords are there, clutched on their dead hands right on their chests. As the sun shone on the bay, one will notice how the armors and the swords perfectly gleamed like it was just oiled.

_A very nice death_, she thought. Then she shake her head, she can't possibly admire their enemy.

The Mad Queen has taken back her family's ancestral seat, that's for certain. These are the soldiers of Dragonstone, tasked by the King to garrison the castle, and all of them, all five hundred of them were dead. For how long, she was not sure. They will have to wait until the King gave an order to board the bodies to the cart to be examined by the Grandmaester.

The King stopped.

"Stay here," he ordered.

She was about to protest but Lord Tyrion reached for her, then he shook his head. So they waited a good ten feet away from their King. King Bran approached the pole slowly and when he was about an arms length away from it he raised his arms as if to touch it.

Suddenly if happens. The banners burst in to flame and out of it dozens of dragons flew around their King.

Sorcery.

The men from the city watch started scream and stumbled back, away from the burning standard.

"Your Grace!" she screamed and tried to approach the King but her horse was too afraid to take her heed, she cursed as she swings her legs and jumped down her horse and tried to reach the King by foot. She unsheathed Oathkeeper to use it to swat the flames perhaps, she was not sure but she felt better when the sword was there in her grip.

"Stay back."

The calm voice of the King gave her no solace, for one, the King always sounds like that and she thought that even in pain the King will still sound like that. As she decided to reason out with the King the flames suddenly stopped. She heard the thumped of feet on the ground as her companions jumped down from their horses as well.

The King turned his horse around and then saw her King's face. She will never forget it, the first time she ever saw a semblance of emotion on his face and it was not a sight she would wanted to see again. It was anger, marring his young face and as pale sunlight touch it, Brienne could have sworn the King resembles an old man.

"To the Red Keep," he commands with his usual calm voice. "And take those with you." He pointed the bodies.

They all nodded and hurriedly climbed their horse. Podrick led the parade and he shouts the King's order to the Gold Cloaks, who--some still trembling-- hurriedly approached the bodies and started piling it on the carts. As Ser Brienne were about to turn his horse around, her eyes lingered on the head of the column, where the banners and the pole stood, there's nothing left but ashes and some molten steel.

Magic, she knows, and a different one. Fire magic.

"And write another letter," the King now address his Hand. "Send it to the Dragon Queen. I wanted her to be in the Great Council."

**Note:**

Okay I get it. Some of you are pissed off at Jon, so am I. But I tried my best not to, because this fic would not exist without his tremendous showmanship of stupidity. And I would like to think that whoever that...craven...was on the show was not the Jon I like. That was D and D's Jon, not the Jon we saw and loved from the previous seasons. I wrote this fic because I can't get it out of my head how they treated my baby girl and practically used her. I hated Sansa to the bone especially when they are at the crypts and she was blaming Dany, while Dany was risking her life out there. F*cking bitch. Thank you Missandei for shutting that disrespectful Cersei 2.0 mouth. And the way Bran was seeing things and he should've warned Dany about Euron or her "madness" (I still think she was not mad, she was just angry and hurt and lost), but he remained silent and just watched how to make a f*cking wheeled chair. Yeeeeeah...f*ck you. And Jon...some of you are right. I hate him at first, but then again, he was confused, he saw Dany burn people alive, it was easy for him to believe the people he knew for a long time instead to a woman he only met for, what a month? So don't worry, though I like Jon I'll give him a good ride in the depression and guilt lane. Mark my words. And some are saying that Dany should not go back and help Westeros, ohhhh baby, she needs to go back, but not in the way you think she should. Let's just say, Westeros would be caught between ice and fire.


	5. Lord Hand

"There goes our limitless supply of dragonglass," said Tyrion as he slammed a Dragon figure on the map of Dragonstone shoving the wolf figure away.

He never thought that he would be seeing a dragon ever again on a map of Westeros, but there it was, the truth in a form of a beautifully sculptured dragon head with its mouth snarling at them. His former Queen had just taken her ancestral seat once more. That would not mean much to anyone at all if only Dragonstone was not seating on a pile of dragonglass. The salvation of all Westeros had been snatched away from them.

"This was her revenge," Tyrion said in quiet voice. "Daenerys doesn't want Dragonstone, she wanted us to beg to her for our life."

Which Tyrion knew she would not give. Why should she? After all that happened. Who would beg for the Queen's help this time? He wondered. Would it be him? How that must make his old Queen happy, seeing her former Hand waggling towards her. The traitor. Maybe they could try their luck once more with Jon Snow, besides it was him who convinced the Queen before. And maybe the fire was still there between them. The moment Tyrion thought that he already knew how foolish that notion was. Jon Snow probably still had some love for the mother of his child, but the Queen? Would she still harbor some love towards the man who killed her? That's unlikely, as unlikely as Tyrion would be able to grow three feet more. They would have some leverage if old Ser Davos was still around. Ser Davos was probably the only person in Westeros that did not give any offence to the Queen but then Tyrion remembered he was...gone.

All of them grew awfully quiet, realization of what had been done was sinking in on them. How many dragonglass is there scattered in Westeros after the war sixteen years ago? Was there any left in the North? Tyrion did not even bother to collect them after the war, thinking they were nothing but a pile of brittle glass, a useless memento of their survival. There are some weapons that the now Lord Baratheon had made in Winterfell in the previous war, where are they now? Was the Lord of Storm's End managed to take his creations after the war and keep them? Even if they still managed to acquire all the dragonglass from the previous war, Tyrion knew it wouldn't be enough. They needed Dragonstone back or they must find a different place to mine dragonglass.

"We can't even be sure if it was the Dragon Queen who had taken the castle," Lord Aurane said, distracting Tyrion from his thoughts.

The young man kept on insisting this assumption of his for the last couple of minutes. Tyrion did not know if the bastard was too frightened by the notion of a dragon that he denied the possibility of it being near them.

Tyrion turned to the bastard Lord, he was slowly losing his patience and not having any sleep at all did not help either and also knowing that the Dragon Queen was near, a few minutes away by a dragon's flight, left an unpalatable taste on his mouth. The taste of fear, he knew or maybe he just wanted to puke.

"Tell me, Lord Waters, who would take Dragonstone if not the Dragon Queen?" he asked coldly.

Lord Aurane did not look affected by Tyrion's tone as he shrugged.

"The Ironborn? It is said that Lady Yara was the Dragon Queen's stalwart ally."

"The Dornish men?" Bronn added with certainty in his voice and a hint of disgust as well. Bronn was always eager to point the blame to Dorne whenever a crisis came up. It seems to Tyrion, that Bronn never did get over with what happened to him the last time he was in Dorne.

Tyrion sighed in annoyance. He closed his eyes as he tried to control his temper. Being ordered not to drink more wine by the King did nothing to help him now.

_"I__'ll be at the godswood. I'll try to see what happened at Dragonstone, for the mean time you will continue the meeting on my absence." _

_Before Podrick rolled the King away, he made one final order. "And Lord Hand, no more wine." _

He wanted a good Arbor gold, a comely woman to warm his bed, and a good long sleep. And he was more likely to ride a dragon than to get all those three.

"Do you know what the Iron price is, my Lords?" he turned his attention to everyone in the room. "The Ironborn are known for pillaging. They take the valuables of their fallen foes and claim it as theirs for they had paid the _iron price_ for it. As you have seen the bodies, my Lords, Ser, I don't see any reason for an Ironborn to leave those fine armors and swords behind, much less clean it and the corpses as well."

"Or put it in a place where everyone can see it," Bronn stated twirling his knife on his fingers. "Which is why it was the Dornish men who did this."

Tyrion almost roll his eyes in exasperation.

"And why is that my Lord?"

Bronn shrugged at him and then sheathed the knife he was playing with before reaching for his goblet, teasingly sipping from it as he looked at Tyrion.

Tyrion scowled at his former sellsword companion.

"Just a hunch," Bronn said putting his goblet down.

"Not the Ironborn then," the young Lord interrupted while nodding his head in agreement with Tyrion's statement earlier and not at all abashed by the error of his judgement. "But, I still stand by my belief that this was no dragon my Lord."

Tyrion turned to the Master of Ships and sighed.

"Would you care to explain why, my Lord?"

"Because there are bodies, Lord Hand," Aurane extends his arms looking at each of them as if they were thick to understand his words. "If this was a dragon shouldn't it be just ashes that remains?"

Tyrion admits, the bastard was right. This doesn't feel like Daenerys. The Dragon Queen was never a fan of theatrics, she wouldn't lay bodies on a bay nor put any interests on cleaning them. If Daenerys wanted the realm to beg to her, it would be unnecessary to display those bodies. All of this does not make any sense. Unless...

"You were not there, my Lords," Ser Brienne finally speaks, cutting the line of his thoughts. She had been awfully quiet since they returned from Blackwater bay, she must still be in shock. "You did not saw those banners bursting into flames then turning into dragons."

Tyrion nodded in agreement. Yes, he was disturbed by that as well. He never knew Daenerys could do fire magic other than being immune to fire and controlling dragons. But if she can block the King's sight, making her almost invisible to it, it was not so impossible for her to turn a piece of cloth to a flaming dragons for sure? Was his former Queen had gotten this much stronger ever since her death? Another puzzle that does not fit. Why the burning banners? Was the Queen merely bragging of her newly found powers? No, Daenerys never brags. As far as he can remember.

"And the last time I heard, Dorne's Prince was still a Martell and the Martell's sigil is a speared sun not dragons," Ser Brienne continued while looking at Bronn.

Bronn leaned forward, about to argue but the Master of Whisperers managed to talk ahead of him.

"Tell me about this banners," Lord Aron said to Brienne, looking rather concerned.

As he should be. It was his job to know the Queen's whereabouts and dealings, now Daenerys did not only managed to get a castle that was near at King's Landing but also a castle seating in the only substance that would save all their lives.

Tyrion looked at the Master of Whisperers coldly. Lord Aron must have sensed his stare as he lifted his eyes and looked at Tyrion's disturbing cold ones. Lord Aron fidgets on his seat as he turned away from him.

"There was nothing special to it my Lord," Ser Brienne answered, seemingly unaware of the discomfort of the Lord she was talking to. "Except that anyone who touched it burns and when the King tried to, it did not burn him but instead the cloth and the pole it was attached to bursts into flames, then twelve dragons came out from it."

Tyrion returned his attention back to Brienne. He did not see the whole thing as Ser Brienne's huge back was blocking his view at that moment, but he indeed saw the flying flames enveloping the King when she rushed down from her horse.

"Twelve dragons?" Lord Aron said, his frown deepening, his eyes looking at Brienne to avoid him. "What does these banners' looks like?"

The part about the banners were something they hadn't touched yet in the meeting and he was planning to discuss it if it wasn't for Lord Aurane's interruption earlier.

"The first banner at the top bears the sigil of House Targaryen, red dragon upon a black field," Ser Brienne answered, confidence in her voice.

Lord Aron urges her to continue with a gesture of his other hand while the other was brushing his wispy beard.

"The one below that bears a sigil I was not familiar with. It was a twelve headed dragon in a field of white and each head had different colors and all are breathing fires."

"Are you familiar with this sigil, my Lord?" Tyrion asked a little bit harshly.

Lord Aron had the gall to look embarrassed as he shake his head.

Tyrion sighed. How he missed Varys and his little birds. Now, he had to do all the solving and thinking. He closed his eyes as he tried to think past the pounding on his head. He felt uneasy, as if something was wrong. Something doesn't add up. What was it he was thinking before Brienne interrupted him?

The Queen's actions. For all the time he spend serving Daenerys he knew she wasn't as dramatic as this. She is straightforward, if she wanted something, she would have it. If she wanted to kill you, she will and she wouldn't do something unnecessary unless her mood says otherwise. But this? He cannot imagine Daenerys ordering someone to board bodies to a ship and lay it in a bay. What was the purpose of those bodies, anyway? What was the purpose of the banner? Did Daenerys really did...

Tyrion opened his eyes and gasped as he finally made the connection. The banner, the bodies and the fact that they are intact. He felt foolish then that he started chuckling. He felt the others' eyes on him but he does not care. He really was being rather dull and slow.

"My Lord?" Ser Brienne asked him, concern written on her face.

Tyrion only shake his head as he tried to staunch his laughter. When he finally calmed down he looked at the other council members still grinning like a loon.

"I had made the connection, but before I tell you what is it that I thought, I wanted to congratulate Lord Aurane for pointing out the obvious and helping me figure this one out." Tyrion grinned at the confused Lord.

"Me?" he said pointing himself, not quite believing he helped at all. "Was it the Ironborns?" Lord Aurane asked uncertainty in his voice.

Tyrion shakes his head, still grinning.

"You're right. This is not the work of Daenerys, but this is a work of a dragon."

"What do you mean, my Lord?" Aurane asked amusement on his face now.

Tyrion takes a deep breath. How slow he had really become.

"The answer to this riddle is rather easy," Tyrion said smirking slightly at Lord Aurane then to other council members. "I want you all to listen carefully and answer my questions. Who is the only person who can have a multi-headed dragon on their banner other than the Dragon Queen? And seems to held Daenerys Targaryen in great esteem and respect to put her banner above theirs? One who seems to have the same affinity with fire magic like the Dragon Queen. One who fits the description of conquering a city or an island with much success. Someone who respects their foes' death that they would not have anyone from their soldiers to steal from them."

Every members had the same knitted brows on their foreheads, until the thought sink in and their faces smoothed out, but it was Lord Aron who told the answer.

"The Little Dragon," Lord Aron whispered.

Tyrion smiled wickedly. He was impressed, he didn't know the Master of Whisperers had any use at all.

"Well, well, it seems to me you have not completely forgotten what you had told us a long time ago when the Princess conquered Qarth."

Lord Aron blushed.

"Of course I haven't forgotten! It just...slipped my mind that's all."

Tyrion ignored the bleating of the Master of Whisperers and explained what he thought further. Even he had forgotten it, he must admit, the only thing he remembered on that report was a tiny bit of information that made him admire the Princess a little more than he should.

"The Princess was known for giving back the bodies of her foes. Intact and unspoiled. Do any of you remember the Princess's first conquest?"

Lord Aurane's face lit up as he finally remembered. He had made a joke about the Princess's odd actions before.

"I remembered! I asked if she catapulted the bodies back to the city, armor and all." Lord Aurane chuckled at that before being serious, or as serious as Aurane Waters can be. "So it was the Princess we're dealing with and not the mother?"

"Yes and no," Tyrion answered.

"What do you mean, my Lord?" Ser Brienne asked a confused frown on her face.

"The daughter indeed take Dragonstone but it was by the order of the mother, after all, a daughter wouldn't do something as big as this without a mother's permission," Tyrion smirked at his own jibe. "I knew Daenerys wouldn't step in Westeros anymore after what happened because if she wanted to come, she should have done it long ago. But saying that, she needed Dragonstone and what better way than to give the honor to her Little Dragon? The Princess must have been bored, after all, her last conquest was two years ago."

Tyrion grinned feeling proud of himself but as his bliss for solving one mystery started to fade away he realized then that what he found out does not help their dilemma at all. How to convince the Dragon Queen on giving them dragonglass?

_Wait. How did Daenerys even..._

His heart began to beat fast on the same rhythm as the pounding on his head from what his thoughts had touched. _How? _He was about to voice his concern when the council chamber's door opened and in comes a gasping Grandmaester. He passed his seat and walked directly to Tyrion's side and offered him a parchment.

"You need to see this," Samwell said gasping for breath. "It's still partially complete but already unsettling."

"Have a seat first Grandmaester, have some wine if you want." Tyrion offered.

Sam sat on his vacant chair beside Ser Brienne and gestures no with his hand on the offer of wine.

Tyrion browsed the parchment and was shocked on the first sentence he had read. He lifted his eyes to Sam who nodded at him.

"There are no sign of decay my Lord," Sam said still a little breathless. "I estimated that the men of Dragonstone had been killed yesterday at dawn or more probably the day before yesterday at midnight. "

"All five hundred?" Aurane asked his voice rising a little from surprise and disbelieve.

"The report are still partial my Lord, me and some scribes of the city managed to examine about a half of the bodies, and all of them are the same. They were freshly killed and all of them had their wounds cleaned and sewn."

"B-but, surely Grandmaester that would take some time! Cleaning the corpses and sewing them and yet you said their deaths happened yesterday!" Lord Aron said ashened by the news.

"Or the day before that at midnight. It was only my theory, but it fits the time perfectly base on the...freshness of the corpses."

Tyrion did not join in the banter. He started to read to report and saw one more thing that was extremely unusual.

"The armors and swords are tended as well?" He asked, he felt his brows rise at that information.

Sam who just finished a conversation with Lord Aron turned to him and nodded.

"I had some blacksmiths to look at the armors and they confirmed that the stabs on it had been pounded and straightened out rather crudely as if rushed. The swords are polished as well same with the armors, but again, rather rashly for the sword was only polished at one side, only at the front and some parts of the armors were not oiled properly."

Tyrion knitted his brows. That's impossible.

"Surely that's impossible," Brienne said at the man beside her, voicing out Tyrion's doubts. "The time it would--"

"Not at all," Bronn said who remained quiet until now. "If they were killed the day before yesterday and they were tended immediately after that, it means the Princess or whoever attacked Dragonstone had twice the men to accomplish both the attack and the tending of corpses. I estimated around a--"

"Thousand men or more who knew how to clean corpses and who had basic knowledge in smithing." Sam cut him off.

Fits the conquering Princess's description. Only her soldiers' can execute such a feat, after all they were used to cleaning corpses all through the years they followed the Little Dragon.

"So, it was possible? To conquer Dragonstone and stay there for almost two days?" Aurane asked disbelieve still on his voice.

"Without the King knowing..." Tyrion whispered.

He felt all the eyes on him. Another riddle and an easier one at that.

"Grandmaester, how long did King Bran's eyes stayed white yesterday?"

Sam shrugged at him surprised by the question.

"He'd been like that for the whole day then he rouse us up by midnight to discuss what he saw."

Tyrion nodded.

"And are we aware what time the bodies was laid on the bay?"

Sam shakes his head.

"Ser Gerold said one of his men saw the bodies when the sun was coming up."

"Wait, I only realized this now," Lord Aron said frowning. "Does this mean the city guards are not doing their job? I mean does no one took the nightly rounds at that part of the bay?"

Tyrion was surprised once more by the Master of Whisperers, apparently he was not as big as a fool than he thought. But that doesn't mean Tyrion would go easy on him in his negligence with the Dragon Queen.

"It's good to now that Ser Gerold would accompany you when King Bran came back from his watch."

Lord Aron paled at Tyrion's statement and looked at him dangerously. Tyrion paid him no mind and turn to Sam once more.

"If we are to estimate, then the bodies was put at the bay by the same time the King woke up from his warging, is that right?"

Sam frowned at him not comprehending where his questions was leading.

"My Lord...I don't..."

"Just entertain me, Sam, what's your best guess?"

Sam lifted his eyes to the ceiling and muttered to himself, counting the possible hours needed to execute such a huge stunt.

"Aye, I guess...I guess you are right Lord Hand. But I still can't see--"

"Can't you see what Lord Tyrion was saying?" Bronn said with a mocking smirk.

"Bronn..." he said warning his friend who had taken the message from his voice and immediately lifted his hands in the air in resignation.

"W-What is it?" Lord Aron stammered looking at Bronn and him in confusion and fear.

Tyrion only shakes his head and offered a smile.

"Nothing, just forget everything I said."

This is dangerous. Utterly dangerous. He looked at Bronn once more who smirked at him. Of course a sellsword would catch up on what he was implying.

"Another question and this one disturbs me the most and frankly I just figured this one out rather recently, about a few minutes ago to be exact, and I was surprised no one did the same."

"Just say it," Brienne growled, patience running thin from all the riddles that had been thrown upon her. He can't blame the Knight, she was used to solve any problems with a sword.

"What I was trying to say, Ser, is how did Daenerys Targaryen knew we would need dragonglass even before we knew that we will need it?"

Tyrion did not know how to feel. Did he felt pride? He wasn't sure, but he did admire the Queen's plans or was it the Princess's? Nevertheless he was enjoying it, the feeling of knowing something that no one in the room had comprehended yet. He had missed this feeling.

"I...I don't..." Sam was flabbergasted like the rest of the small council. Clearly no one had thought about it until he had pointed it out.

"When we first came to Dragonstone back when I was the Dragon Queen's Hand it took us almost two moons to be there from Meereen. So, how did Daenerys knew to send her daughter ahead of time and landing in Dragonstone almost a day ahead from the moment the King saw the brewing storm beyond the Wall?"

This riddle was harder to solve than all three that has been offered to him so far. It made his head pound painfully, more painfully than earlier. He badly needed wine.

"I...how do we know the Dragon Queen had taken Dragonstone for the dragonglass?" Samwell asked. "She could have done it because--"

"Because she wanted Westeros? Grandmaester, does it ever make you wonder why Daenerys Targaryen, with all her armies, wealth and dragons did not bother herself to come back and take vengeance? She didn't even fly on Drogon to burn us all when King Bran and Queen Sansa offered lordship and lands to anyone that could kill her child."

That was his mistake, Tyrion knew. He tried to persuade the King out of this actions because he was afraid of the repercussions it would entail, he even made a substitute plan to avoid the killing of the babe. Spreading rumors that the Dragon Queen had lovers aplenty just to hide that the child has Stark blood. It worked, for some time, but the King and his sister was determined and he could do nothing to change their minds. It was only by luck that Essos was on turmoil on the early years of the Princess's childhood and the slavers and some other Essosi wanted the Dragon Queen's head or they would have burned. But even when Daenerys found out that the assassins were not from slavers but from her child's very own cousin she didn't retaliate in a way Tyrion expected. She starved them instead by stopping the trades between Essos and Westeros.

Now he had an inkling. Or rather, he had thought of it before, he just doesn't want to explore the possibilities that Daenerys was not as mad as the King or anyone had been thinking.

"Westeros does not mean anything to her anymore. She would not want to waste the life of her people to die in a war eventhough she knew she can win. This place was where she felt grief and lost everything even her life. She would not take risks on us anymore. But that doesn't mean she won't have her vengeance."

Tyrion looked down. Was this the price of all that had been done? Will they lose their life and the life of all the people in Westeros simply because the woman who was supposed to be their Queen refuses to help?

He sighed as he looked up and surprised to see that Ser Brienne, the one who sided with Ser Davos against the King's plan had her eyes closed, as if in pain. Samwell who was too craven to say anything and abstained had his head bowed. In shame? Tyrion was not sure.

He sighed as he stood up.

"Well, clearly we had solved none of our problems and we would solve less the morrow if we did not have our rest."

The other council members stood up as well.

Lord Aurane tiredly pushed himself up from his chair, before looking at Tyrion.

"I could send a raven to my father about this, Driftmark is near Dragonstone after all. If he could just take a peek..."

Tyrion only shake his head and offered a small smile.

"Thank you, Lord Aurane, but I believe this incident must remain hidden until our King says otherwise."

Lord Aurane nodded and agreed with him, then he left seemingly relieved that he can have his rest. In a brothel, Tyrion was sure. Lord Aron was next who only looked at him blandly before leaving the room.

"I must go to King Bran and see if I could offer some help," Brienne said quietly as she stood up.

"Ser, promise me you will have your rest after," Tyrion said truly concerned. Brienne only nodded at him and left the room as well.

"I must go now," Sam muttered his head still bowed.

"I would like to see the continuation of your report, Grandmaester." Tyrion said with a small smile.

"I'll have it sent to your solar, Lord Hand. I'm sure the letters for the Lords and Ladies can wait."

_Ah, the letters._ He had almost forgotten the Great Council he had proposed to the King. And thinking of the King, Tyrion remembered that he wanted to add a new scroll to be sent. Either this was a good idea or a bad one that would cause them their lives.

"King Bran also wanted to send a letter addressed to the Dragon Queen."

Sam looked at him with his mouth gaping open before jerking his head almost like a seizure than a nod before leaving the room.

It was only him and Bronn now who was left.

Bronn lifted his legs then put his feet up on the table and reclined his chair slightly. He looked at Tyrion and grin at him, showing off his yellow teeth.

"So, who was our traitor?"

Tyrion sighed as he went to the table to get a wine. Then he remembered the King's orders. If this was a normal King, he could have defied him and none would be the wiser, but not this King who can look at the past. He put the goblet down and stood up at the chair and then sat himself on the table looking at the map of Westeros. His eyes lingered at the island of Dragonstone. Was the Princess still there? He had not thought of that earlier. That would be another discussion tomorrow and he wished the King was with them at that time and that he had seen what he wanted to see.

"We must refrain from saying that word Bronn," Tyrion said after a long silence.

"Why? It's the truth. Someone from the inside was feeding the person who took Dragonstone with information about the King."

He looked at Bronn who had his hands behind his head looking relaxed and uncaring. Then he frowned when he realized the way Bronn named their culprit, _person_. Tyrion shakes his head in exasperation, Bronn was nothing but stubborn. He might still be thinking it was the Dornish men who had taken Dragonstone from them.

"I might be wrong and it might be nothing but a coincidence," Tyrion said looking down once more.

But if he was right about his assumptions earlier and if what Bronn said was true, then that explains the bodies but not how the Dragon Queen knows when to take Dragonstone. This does not make any sense to Tyrion.

He picked the Dragon sculpture and turn it on every angle, marvelling at how the scales were carved. If only Daenerys was as simple as the piece of wood he was holding. Beautiful and decorative and easy to understand, but no, she had to be the fire-breathing kind of dragon, dangerous, unpredictable and seems to be more cunning than the last time. And there are two of them now. The Mother of Dragons and her Little Dragon.

"You really think that? A mere coincidence that when the King stopped using that creepy white eyes of his, corpses appeared at the bay the next morning? You and I know that would be the only chance for anyone to sneak in King's Landing and that person knew it and used it. The King had his brown eyes all the evening and the morning when he was with us. Someone in the Red Keep was feeding that person information. We had a spy and you know what that means."

Tyrion closed his eyes as he put the dragon back at the map.

"Yes, Bronn. I know."

_I had served and now I rest._ The sad voice of Ser Davos whispered in his ears once more.

**Note:**

I will offer some insights on the next chapters from now on so that would stop anyone from second guessing :D I mean, I thought I was being obvious about the implications of Dany having Dragonstone since Bronn had said it on the 3rd chapter that they had limitless amount of dragonglass as long as they have Dragonstone. The main purpose of conquering House Targaryen's ancestral seat was to cut Westeros from any help from House Targaryen. I mean, they honestly believe Dany would just sit in Meereen having a massage while the people who betrayed her benefited from the dragonglass on her family's castle? Nuh-uh.

So...on the next chapter we will have Dany's POV. That will take some time to write because I'm not the most diligent of writers but I'll try to upload it by next week? Perhaps? Or a little bit earlier than that. You'll never know.


	6. Princess of Dragonstone

**Three moons ago**

"My Queen..." Kinvara had said to her in a pleading voice.

"Yes?" Dany answered, distracted as she dangled a morsel of raw meat in the air and let the two dragon hatchlings snap at it. One in particular had jumped, almost biting Dany's hands off.

"Jorahndal, down," she warned to the green and white dragon who cooed at her in response. "Now," she threw the meat in to the air and said the words. "Dracarys!"

Small flickering flames came out of the small dragons but none hit the meat and it just fell--raw--on top of the head of the white and brown one, Barriston. She watched, chuckling as the two dragons fought for the single meat.

Dany can't help herself but coo at them and kneeled down giving Barriston a meat of his own after being beaten by his greedy brother. Dany reminisced back when Rhaegal and Viserion was fighting over food and then Drogon would come and snatch the food they were fighting with and eat it for himself. Dany chuckled then sighed. Those were the good times. Back when Ser Barristan and Jorah was still with her. And Missandei. The first Missandei. Thinking of the past made her think of Drogon and her other children. Aeryk was in the garden with her. Dany looked at the dark blue dragon whose huge body was curled around his tree, which was a great olive, snoring away. Irrina left a minute earlier after she had fed her, she was probably playing with her other siblings: Nissa Nissa--Missandei's mount, Rhaeko, Aegor, Willem, Neferion and Drogon--who had grown three times over the last sixteen years--somewhere.

Her children.

When she had three, she had lost two, now she had ten dragons, twelve if the last two dragon eggs hatched. Seven were the dragon eggs she managed to collect over the years in Essos. Four were given to her in Asshai by the mysterious woman she met in Qarth named Quaithe, who, apparently had been waiting for her there for years. The other three eggs, her daughter...found somewhere. Dany wasn't even sure where her daughter get the eggs. She just came home one day after playing with the other children outside the Pyramid--which she was not allowed to do--and showed Dany a sack with three dragon eggs. Missandei was only four back then, so Dany did not get any useful information from her, only a name: Ro-ro or something. Dany remembered how enraged she was at Daario to the point she threatened him to be fed to Drogon. Apparently it was he who sneaked Missandei out of the Pyramid to play and he justified his mistake by saying he took pity at her daughter seeing how lonely she was and he was with her the entire time she was outside, except when her daughter goes missing for a minute or two only for him to find her standing in an alleyway, alone and with the said sack of dragon eggs. For many years Dany questioned her daughter about that incident, but she does not seem to remember anything.

Then another surprise happened just a year ago. One or two of her children gave birth to five eggs. She and Missandei were still in heated argument who among the dragons had given birth. Missandei insisted it was Drogon, which made Dany scoff, Drogon was a male. She still thinks it was Irrina or Nissa Nissa who gave birth since they were the only female dragons she had but Missandei rolled her eyes and lectured her, her own mother, that she should read more of Septon Barth's books.

Dany cannot help but be a little apprehensive about how fast and...easier it was to hatch dragon eggs than before. She does not even needed to burn a witch, sacrifice a child or a husband for that matter to bring the dragons out of their shell. She just lay them near her, her daughter, or with the other dragons, and they hatched. Kinvara had explained the phenomenon to her in a very simple way. She told Dany to imagine a really huge wagon whose wheels were stuck in a mud. Dany was the one who pushed the wagon, with some "minor" sacrifices, say, some fingers had been broken in the hope of moving it by the inch and some "horses" was used to pull as well but died in the process, but still, the wagon moved a little with their help. When the wagon started to budge away from the mud it was stuck in, its movement was unstoppable. The wheels kept on rolling over and over and the wagon started to move forward. Kinvara said that Dany had awakened the magic of Old Valyria when her first three dragons hatched, now it was easy for all magic to stir as well. The dragons and her ability to burn were proof to that. The magic in the world lives once more, for better or for worse.

And now, a vision of a place that resembles Dragonstone had been plaguing the Red Priestess.

"My Queen," Kinvara called for her once more, urgency and a hint of impatience in her voice.

Dany sighed and then turned to the Red Priestess.

"Yes, Kinvara. I've heard you the first time," she replied then turn her attention back to her two hatchlings.

"My Queen, are you not the least worried? The Lord of Light had shown me Dragonstone twice now. In a single day. Surely, it means something."

"Worried? Why would I be?" Dany asked with a small smirk.

Besides, Dragonstone cannot walk nor run. It stays in one place, why would she care? If she wanted, she can go there now and storm the castle with dragon fyre.

Kinvara looks aghast at what she heard.

"Your Grace, did Dragonstone mean nothing to you?"

Dany closed her eyes at that. For all Kinvara's respect towards her, she really knows how to use the words that would provoke her temper.

Dany stood up and faced the priestess.

"Nothing? Oh, it means everything to me," she almost growled.

How many times did she dreamt on riding Drogon and rousing all her children then flying towards her family's ancestral seat and burn those soldiers, those traitors' pawns to ashes? To burn every single wolf banner she knew the Broken King had put at her castle. She could have turned not only Dragonstone but all of Westeros in to the seven hells their septons kept on preaching about when she found out that the Starks were the one who was sending assassins to her daughter. But no, she had a better idea, one that will not paint her as the Mad Queen nor the Mother of Monsters. A plan to avoid the spilling of blood from her people and at the same time make the people of Westeros see who the real monsters are. The monsters who will hoard the food, the wine, _everything_, while the small folk starved, and she was right. The pigs who dressed themselves with fine clothing had indeed kept everything for themselves whilst the people, their people who worked for the food, who tilled the soil, whom they had sworn to protect begs them for food. Funny how the nobles of Westeros can treat their very own people that way but when a _foreign_ _bitch_ hurts the _dirty_ _peasants_ and killed them, they would retaliate. How many small folk had died over the years when the nobles played their game of thrones? Thousands? Hundreds of thousands? Millions? More than she ever killed, that's for sure. Dany was aware of what she did, how unforgiveable it was, how unspeakable even to her standards, but she was no fool to take the blame entirely to herself. How many sleepless nights did she endure thinking of what could have happened if she just followed her instincts and not let herself be chained by another man's decisions? How many lives she could have saved or spared if only she embraced who she really was much earlier like the old Lady Olenna had advised? Then, when she finally accepted her true self, it was far too late. It was not Dany who embraced her Dragon blood, it was the Dragon that was inside her that embraced her, burning everything away just to forget everything that had been taken from her, the rejection, the loneliness and the self-guilt she felt on what had been done to her friend. Her sweet Missandei whom she loved so much that she named her daughter after her, disregarding other Targaryen names including her mother's.

Dany knew her sins and paid for it, but the people who wanted her child dead, who betrayed her, then stole from her were never punished. Three short years was all she had to retaliate, she had made them all suffer until one man came, a merchant turned smuggler who begged for her mercy. Which she gave, opening the ports of Essos once more. Only to the merchants. Three years wasn't enough vengeance for her though, but she had to make do of what had been done, after all it was the small folk that suffered the most. Still, Dany knew the Lords and Ladies had felt her wrath, how many of them had sent gifts of some kind behind the back of their Broken King? Dany gave it all back untouched making sure the Broken King knew of these transactions. She was actually surprised the cripple did nothing but send messages to the Lords as well. A warning, or so Kinvara said.

Now, the Storm was brewing once more, but unlike before, she knew better. She would not make the same mistakes she did sixteen years ago. She had learned so much in her brief stay in Westeros. One was to never commit herself to people who will not do the same for her. She had learned as well from a wine-loving bitch to wait for the Storm and let those who lived in the North defend the North. Dany smirked, let the red-headed Queen and her crippled brother defend their lands. That was what they wanted after all, to rule, then they will rule and must suffer the consequences of the crown. She did, and now she was stronger, she was not saying wiser, but she knew more than she did.

She felt calmer now as she looked at Kinvara.

"I changed my mind, I'm worried. Tell me everything you saw and what you think was the reason behind these visions."

Surely that must mean something and was connected to the coming war in some way.

She turned to her Unsullied soldiers who had the two hatchlings' cage. She wanted to carry her dragon babes herself inside her Great Pyramid to her chambers, but they had gotten so big that one of them barely fit in her arms anymore. She kneeled and took Jorahndal first and tried her best not to drop him as she lifted him. He was so heavy now, but not that much that she wouldn't be able to lift him and walk a few distance. She put him in his cage and as Dany did, the hatchling whimpered at her. That caused Dany to smile sadly. Her Jorahndal was very much similar to Ser Jorah, both wanted to be with her at all times. As she turned around to pick Barriston she noticed he was already there behind her. It seems that he followed her when she walked. Like a very good son, she does not need to pick him up, he just went to his own cage voluntarily. A good white knight indeed.

After making sure the little dragons are secured on their cages, Dany turned around and walked down the path that would take her outside the gardens and in to the training grounds. She felt Kinvara following behind her and the Unsullied lining up beside them.

"Well?" she asked the Red Priestess without turning.

Kinvara sighed rather uncomfortably. Dany lifted her brows at that.

"I cannot presume to analyze the messages the Lord of Light wanted to convey on me, Your Grace."

If Kinvara did not sound so disappointed on herself Dany would have mocked her in some way.

Dany sighed and started to think for herself.

Dragonstone. When the crippled garrisoned it six years ago, this R'hllor never sent a single vision. Dany could have prevented the Starks on getting the island of her ancestors if he had given a warning. Even Missandei who just came back from conquering Qarth offered to take her mother's birthplace back, promising victory. Or maybe they can't? Dany contemplated what would have happened if she did attacked Dragonstone or her daughter did. It dawned to Dany that that would unite all the kingdoms of Westeros against her. They may have got Dragonstone back but the Lords may wage war against Essos who are not as united back then as it was now. There was even a great possibility of her or her daughter dying. That begs the question, why now? Why show this vision of Dragonstone? What was the difference from now to six years ago?

Dany gasped and she stopped walking as she finally realized the message.

"Kinvara?" her voice sounds odd even to her ears. She sounds hopeful and dazed. Which she was. She started walking once more rather slowly as she was still thinking deep.

"My Queen?" Kinvara replied with a hint of concern in her voice.

"The Broken King, did he knew already about the Storm?"

It took Kinvara a few seconds before replying.

"The last time I checked with our...informant, the King had yet to know, your Grace."

Dany nodded as she walked much faster. Dragonstone and its mines. Of course, he would want it, all of it, to save their worthless lives from his mistake. Dany did not know what to feel. She felt...angry? No, that was not it, she felt...used. After all these years, House Stark would want to rely on her House again? No. No more. After all they did, after all the knifes they hired to kill her daughter. She finally saw it, a window of opportunity.

"I need to see my daughter," she said more to herself than to the Red Priestess, who answered anyway.

"She was on the training grounds with her Captains, my Queen."

Dany nodded, her mind somewhere else, to the pool of possibilities of what the vision would entail.

When they reached the training grounds where some of her daughter's soldiers practiced she started looking for her daughter's tell-tale knee-length, dark silver curls. She was not there. As she stood there the huge dark man--the Summer Islander--one of her daughter's captains saw her.

"Dragonspawns!"

The man she believed was called Arly--a very sweet name for a man his size--shouted in a full voice and all the soldiers dropped their swords, bows and spears and ran to their positions then faced her with their back straight and their hands on their backs.

Dany was impressed as always. For her daughter's lack of discipline and carefree manner, her soldiers were very...assiduous.

Dany lifted her hand and smiled at the soldiers.

"Thank you, but do continue your training my dear soldiers."

"Yes, Your Grace!" The soldiers shouted once more before resuming their training. Except Arly who approached her.

"Your Grace," the man said in his huge gravely voice.

"Captain," she nodded at the man. "Do you happen to know where my daughter is?"

Arly flashed a toothy smile at the mention of Missandei before answering her.

"The General was with us earlier, your Grace," the man said, his voice rang with respect. "She was training the new recruits but she excused herself to visit the smithy about an hour ago, saying that she should try making valyrian steel shields."

Dany can't help the shaking of her head.

Her daughter: a princess, warrior, dragonrider, general, and the only smith in the known world that can turn a normal steel in to a spell forged one. For now. Her daughter was hard pressed on teaching some smiths she befriended from Qohor--who knew how to recast valyrian steel--about the lost arts of spell forging. Gods forbid, even her daughter had forced her to learn as well, but Dany barely hammered the metal three times and her arms hurts like hell already, so, she gave up. Gods only knows how her daughter managed to pound the hammer three times much less a thousand.

She sighed, thinking of her daughter made her worry. How many hats must her daughter wear to keep herself satisfied?

"Thank you, Captain I--"

"She's no longer there, your Grace." A voice coming from her far right said.

Dany watched as the beautiful blonde friend of her daughter approached her. Veena was a former slave from Volantis, saved by her daughter when she conquered the city. Now, she was one of the Captains of her daughter's Dragonspawns.

"My Queen," the Captain bowed to her.

"Veena," Dany nodded in response and smiled at the fair woman in front of her. "Where is your nuisance of a General?"

Veena grinned at that, enhancing the three deep circular scars on her left cheek where Dany knew the woman's tear drop tattoos were used to be branded.

"At the kitchens, Your Grace," Veena's smirk turned even more mischievous as she saw the horror on Dany's face.

Another thing of her daughter's many persona, a cook. Or to be more accurate, a poisoner based on her recent recipes or as Dany like to describe it...experiments.

"She had a surprise for you, Your Grace and I hope you are not hungry," Veena said barely restraining her laughter by biting her lower lip.

Dany only nodded at the woman before thanking her. She then continued her walk towards the entrance of her pyramid.

"I thought we are going to the kitchens, my Queen?" Kinvara asked too innocently as she saw Dany climbing the stairs towards her chamber.

Dany choose not to reply as she continued walking.

"You worry too much, my Queen."

"You will worry if you're the one eating."

Dany felt a shiver run down her spine as she remembered the last meal her daughter had made for her. Dany had eaten worse things; she had eaten a raw horse heart, sausages made of puppies, and more unusual delicacies but the pie her daughter had made was on par with the horse heart. For one, she was both forced to eat it and second she was watched as well as she tried to finish it. At that moment, Missandei really acted like a dosh khaleen, only merciful by a small pinch.

Dany finally reached her solar. The two Unsullied sentries made way for her and opened her door.

She only felt relieved as she sat on her couch and relaxed there as she watched her other Unsullied bring inside her dragons. Dany thanked them as they left and it was only her and Kinvara in the room, who was satisfied just to stand in the corner near the unlit brazier.

Dany stood up from her couch and went to the cages. She peeked inside and saw both of the hatchlings were sleeping. Dany was planning to let them out but she does not have the heart to disturb her dragon babes' sleep so she let them. She walked back to her seat but she decided not to rest, she went to her balcony instead and watched the little blots of people below. Ships by the hundreds were at the docks and their merchants are putting some olive products to their cargoes. It was harvesting season for olives and their supplies had exceeded her expected counts. That caused the price for olive related products to decrease greatly in price at Dragon's Bay. Dany decided then that they needed to sell the products to every ports of Essos and selected ports of Westeros if the farmers wanted to earn the deserved amount of money they had spent in taking care of the said trees. There are some merchants from the Free Cities at the ports today, taking advantage of the price decrease, but Dany made sure that they would not abuse the low price too much. There are some Westerosi merchants down at the ports as well, willing to trade with whatever it was Westeros trades with the winter still upon them. Then again, they were ignorant of what was going on their own realm. Six years of spring? Surely their maesters had a very boring explanation of what was happening to their lands, any explanation, just not the fact that magic was at play on their faulty seasons.

Daario and Grey Worm was down there somewhere by her orders, accompanied by some Second Sons and Unsullied, making sure that the foreign merchants traded fairly for the products and also to make sure no spies managed to slip inside Meereen. She just managed to root out all the informants of that Braavosi fool they call Master of Whisperers and she did not want to deal with more rats that would babble her and her daughter's every move to the Broken King and his dwarf of a Hand.

Tyrion.

She felt her temper rise in remembering the Imp. She inhaled through her flaring nostrils and try to control her emotions. After all this years, Tyrion's betrayal still stings, but that was that, a sting, a minor annoyance. She no longer felt the impulse to kill him or hurt him...slightly, but she knew she was getting there.

_"He's been hurt enough, your Grace. Forgive him, I did, and what had been done to me by him and his family were far more worse than what has been done to you." _

The weak voice of the woman came back to her. She closed her eyes, trying to forget the pungent smell coming from the woman's wounds or the vision of her ravaged body.

Yes, if only Tyrion knew, he would wish Dany had killed him instead.

Her thoughts came back to Dragonstone. Would it be safe if they did it now? How can she make sure she and her daughter would survive once they've retaken it? And at what cause? Daario? Grey Worm? One of her dragons? Her daughter? Was she assuming too much on this Lord of Light's message? And if not, how would she proceed in taking Dragonstone without the Broken King knowing?

"Mother!" Her daughter's voice almost made her jump from where she was standing.

She turned around and she was there standing with her black breeches and knee length boots, her swordbelt with knifes and the short sword on her hip, she was wearing her sleeveless leather tunic that was cut low in the back to free her leathery wings and to prevent the spikes that ran on her spine to rip the cloth off.

Looking at her daughter always made her feel like she was staring at a mirror. A lot of people that had seen her and her daughter always mentioned how alike they are. Peas in a pod as the saying goes. But Dany begs to differ. Her daughter was a magical, mystical, and a wilder version of her and far more beautiful than she ever was at the age of five and ten.

Missandei almost always had a smile on her face, making the people around her at ease despite the fact that she had spikes running down her spine, scales covering almost the whole of her back and huge wings growing between her shoulder blades. How many foes had mistaken that innocent and pretty smile for a weakness and died? Her eyes are expressive as well and some would say, unsettling with its multi-colored irises. Her eyes were dark purple around the edges then lighter turning to gray near at her dark pupils. Unusual and unique and also sad to look upon for Dany. There were _his_ eyes on Missandei's, sharing it with her. _He_ was also there on her daughter's knee-length curly, unruly hair. When her daughter's hair was supposed to be silver-blonde like a true Targaryen, it was instead mixed with a dark color making the curly strands resemble the silvery-ash shade of valyrian steel. Ironic, seeing him on her daughter, sharing her daughter's appearance when he did nothing but refuse her when she offered him everything, to share with him everything she ever had. At first, Dany felt apprehensive when she found out that she was carrying his child. She feared that her loath for the father might be passed down to their daughter. But now, looking at her daughter's sweet, smiling face, how can she ever think that? Even by a passing? There are times that it would fascinate her, of how she can look at her daughter with love, care and devotion even if she annoys her constantly. Unconditional love, Kinvara had told her.

Missandei frowned at her when she did not respond to her, then her lips lifted in her mischievous smirk.

"Come Mother, I've made you lunch."

Dany sighed deeply. And yes, even if her daughter always made her the test subject of her experiments. A mother's love is indeed a mysterious thing.

"Fine," Dany said and the answering smile of her daughter almost made her day. Almost, if it wasn't for the tray she was carrying that she had set on the crowded table.

Her daughter piled all the parchments in one go, without bothering to look what was signed already or opened and put it at one of the chair. Dany had to sort that out all over again after this.

"Kinvara, I had made some for you as well," Missandei said still showing her dazzling smile.

Dany watched the Red Priestess who was standing across the room, faltered.

"Ah, my dear Princess--" Kinvara started to make her excuses but Dany had cut her off.

"It's fine Missandei, Kinvara probably doesn't want to eat with us," she said making her voice a little bit sad as she sat at the head of the table.

Missandei's smile disappeared as she looked at Kinvara with big pitiful eyes. The Red Priestess forced a smile as she walked to the table and sat as well at Dany's left side.

Missandei opened the cover of the tray and then pulled a stool and sat at her right. Dany actually felt her heart beating a tad faster than normal and then Dany saw what it was.

Missandei served the plate of roasted quail with seared tomatoes in front of them. Kinvara and Dany shared a brief surprised look at each other before turning back at their plates.

"Well, it took me a while to perfect this, but I finally did," Missandei said as she took her knife and fork and started slicing a good portion of the quail.

Dany can't help but to crane her head to look at Missandei's plate and there it was, something unusual that wasn't supposed to be included in such a normal food.

"Oh, there's something inside," Kinvara remarked rather amused.

Dany looked at Kinvara who just started slicing her quail open on the belly.

"Mother? You are not eating?"

Dany looked at her daughter and she was actually eating, which was a first. Normally her daughter would urge her to take the first bite or most of the time ten bites before eating the food she concoct herself.

"Mmmm," Kinvara hummed in appreciation as she ate as well.

_Well, it looked rather normal._

Dany take a deep breath as she take a piece from the quail. The skin was crisp as she sliced from it, her cut had opened the belly of the quail and she saw it was mashed potatoes that was inside. Dany was impressed, despite herself. Very ingenious and very like her daughter. She speared the slice of meat and a portion of the filling as well and shoved it in her mouth.

Dany was impressed earlier. Now she was in shock. It was good. It was really potatoes and something else. She took a fork full and eat once more. It was cheese and something peppery and garlicky. Minced sausages and her favourite kind of sausages at that. This was good. They did not talk as they ate which was good since she was having a great time on this meal.

As they finished their lunch they washed it down with a hearty, sweet mulled wine.

"That was good," Dany said as she wipe her mouth with a napkin.

Missandei grinned at her with her cheeks pink from the compliment.

"Told you, I'll make it up to you over that salt beef pie fiasco."

Dany chuckled as she takes a sip once more of her wine.

As Dany looked at her daughter she remembered that they would have something to discuss. Dany almost hated herself from breaking this affectionate moment with her child, but she must.

"Kinvara," she turned to the Red Priestess who was smirking slightly probably from Dany's mistaken trepidation over the food earlier.

"Your Grace?" the Red Priestess replied with that smug smile still on her face.

"I would like to speak to my daughter in private."

Kinvara bowed to her and stood up.

"As you wish, your Grace."

When Kinvara had left the room Dany turned to her daughter who was fidgeting on her stool.

"Am...I in trouble?" Missandei asked slowly, discomfort written all over her pretty face.

Dany chuckled as she shakes her head.

"No, I think you are not." Dany replied

Missandei puffed her cheeks and released an air from her mouth, clearly relieved and in a very unlady like manner.

"Kinvara saw Dragonstone in the flames," Dany said watching her daughter's expression.

That caught Missandei's full attention as she turned her head towards Dany, eyes shining from curiosity and excitement.

Dany told her everything and what she thought was the vision was for.

"So, cousin Three Eyes was still devastatingly ignorant of their predicament?" Missandei asked after a few second of pause when Dany was done talking.

"But not for long," Dany replied.

They grew quiet once more for a time until Missandei breaks it with a scoff.

"What are you thinking?"

Missandei was playing with the bones on her plate and continued to do so for a moment before looking at her, her face was uncharacteristically serious.

"What I am thinking at this moment or what I have been thinking for some years now?" Missandei tilted her head slightly her purple-grey eyes looking directly at her seemingly burrowing it right through her skull.

Dany felt uncomfortable. She realized at that moment what it felt like to be stared at in that way. _She really is my daughter._

"Both," Dany smiled.

Missandei chewed at her bottom lip before she propped her elbows to the table and clasped her hands together.

"When they had taken Dragonstone from us I proposed to take it, remember Mother?"

Dany's smile was wiped off of her face.

"Yes. Yes, I do."

That was the time when Missandei just got home from her war in Qarth. Ten, so young, and too many blood was in her daughter's hands already. But she was a Dragon, the blood of Aegon the Conqueror ran thick within her more than it was with Dany. Her daughter was so wroth more than she was when her cousins "stole" Dragonstone and wanted to go there herself. She refused her, for the fear of losing her, even then Dany had felt the time was not right. Nonetheless, Dany regrets that back then. She wanted to fly to Dragonstone herself, so much that it aches.

"I resented you then, I thought that you had grown craven. But as I take city after city, island after island, I finally understood. You had saved me from myself, from my arrogance."

Dany wanted to say something but she indeed asked her daughter what she was thinking, it would be rude to interrupt her now. And yes, she knew her daughter had thought badly of her and it hurts Dany more than anything, to be avoided by her daughter, but Missandei was not a spiteful child. A few days and she was already back to the way she was, although Dany knew the thoughts were still there on her daughter's mind.

"You asked me what I think?" Missandei looked at her now, coldness was there in her eyes.

"Missandei, I--" Dany stopped herself, she did not even knew what she was about say.

But Missandei seemed not to hear her as she dropped her gaze back to her plate. An uncomfortable silence surrounded them. This was not how she envisioned her daughter's reaction would be. She was expecting anger, excitement but not this...coldness.

"They are stealing from us," Missandei said, almost a whisper. "They've been stealing from us for so long and I can't...can't...no more." She continued with a shake of her head.

"They stole your kingdom," Missandei looked at her intensely then. "They stole your title, they stole our family."

Dany knew what her daughter was pertaining when she said 'family' and she was not sure what to feel.

"He...made a choice..." Dany said not wanting to say the name for fearing all the weakness it will bring her once she so much as utter it. "No one forced him, no one stole him--"

Missandei turned her body on her direction and gave her a sad smile.

"Yes, and that was even more painful isn't it?"

Dany felt a huge lump on her throat. He made a choice and that was not her. She, who offered him everything, who had done everything for him, fight his war with him damn the consequences, who saved his life more than once, who loved him, him, who was her only family. She was shunned, treated like a pariah, betrayed and what did he do to save the woman he owed his life? Nothing. He stabbed her in the heart for the mistake she had done, a mistake she was not supposed to be alone to shoulder. Dany inhaled shakily.

"They stole everything; your life, your future and even your birthplace. No...I would not allow this...I don't care about their dragonglass, but it is _our_ dragonglass."

Missandei was angry now, she was seething every word from her gritted teeth.

"Mined in Dragonstone. Our seat! Our birthright! My birthright," Missandei pointed at herself in anger. Her daughter's face was all pink from the emotions she was feeling then she suddenly slumped her shoulders looking deflated.

Missandei never get angry for too long, even as a child. _She was better at controlling the dragon's wrath than I am. _Dany thought.

"No more. No more. I would not let my children live by the shadow of what was once ours. I wouldn't be able to face them when they ask me what the Painted Table looks like or what does the gorgoyles atop the parapets looks like or if the dragons in Dragonstone truly dragons only turned into stones. I wanted them to see, to touch, to feel _OUR_ history, and not just by telling stories before they sleep. I wouldn't let them dream a place that was supposed to be theirs just like me. I don't want to live thinking it is fine to steal from a dragon."

Dany bit her lip to stop herself from crying. She never knew these was what her daughter was feeling whenever she asked her about their stolen land. Dany wanted to laugh bitterly, how can she ever deserve a child such as this? Here she was, angry over a few brittle glass while her daughter was thinking ahead, far ahead than her. She was thinking about the future of their House. Of their family.

Missandei turned to her then, eyes bright with such conviction.

"I don't care if you would stop me mother, but if they wanted _our_ dragonglass then they can ask us for permission."

Dany can't help it anymore, a tear fell from her eye as she look at the greatness that was her child.

"What made you think I will stop you, my Princess of Dragonstone?"

**Note:**

I know some of you would ask about Dany's dragons and say how cliché it was to have all those dragons but let me remind you that before the Dance of Dragons (Rhaenyra and Aegon II's war) dragon eggs hatched pretty easy and that was even when the magic that lingers in their world where only dregs after the Doom. Back then they just lay the eggs in the babes crib and it would hatch. Some wouldn't, but back then that was unusual. Can you imagine how bizarre that is? In Dany's timeline she was considered "unusual" when she managed to hatch three dragon eggs but back at Rhaenyra's time, what they call unusual is a Targaryen who can't hatch a dragon egg. I mean, even the half-bloods, Rhaenyra's bastards (she swears they arent, but man, they don't look like a Targaryen or Velaryon with their brown hair and pudgy nose) can even hatch one! Dany managed to awaken that old magic and more.

So, where did Dany get those eggs when dragon eggs are rare?

Hint: Aegon V's dragon eggs in Summerhall did not go to waste.

I wanted to explore the idea that those seven eggs that caused Aegon the Unlikely's death had somehow managed to be in the hands of his descendants and not by the hands of a merchant or a sellsword or anyone that was not a Targaryen. It was like homecoming. If you wanted to know how the eggs ended up from Westeros to Essos, I will let your imagination do the job or let us all wait for GRRM to continue his Dunk and Egg series because the eggs' whereabouts were not mentioned in the books and Dany's eggs (Drogon, Viserion, Rhaegal) are 100% not from those seven (read Fire and Blood for more details), I will also not under any circumstances will make a fic about the adventures of dragon eggs.

Regarding Missandei, it took me a lot of contemplating to finally make her personality. Would she be fierce like Dany? Or would she be brooding like Jon? And then I decided, screw that, she would be a fusion of Arya and Dany. The pre-war Arya with all the mischief and fun, together with Dany's fierceness and intelligence. I also wanted her to be as unassuming as she can be despite the wings and her other deformities (scales, spikes), and when I say unassuming I wanted her to look pretty and sweet and someone that can be underestimated. I also wanted her to be fun, and can cause Dany to smile and feel warm because Dany deserves that. I wanted Missandei to be OP as hell too and what can I say? I am a fan of women who can multi-task. I wanted Missandei to be...human, more human than the normal royalties who doesn't even know how to peel a potato nor to treat people lower than them with respect. I wanted her to relate to the peasants like Egg does because just like him, she experienced living with them.

I never thought that this chapter would be longer than I expected (nor this note) I just like writing Dany's POV and since there was a lot to cover up, we will have Dany's POV as well in the next chapter but in the present setting. Would that cover their plan for Operation: Dragonstone? No, I want to hold on to my cards a while longer and...well, I like teasing you.


	7. Ravens

**Note:**

I promised this would be a Dany chapter but I stalled a little. But I tried to make amends with you by throwing in Missandei's first POV instead. So sorry. We will have Dany next. I promise. Then Jon after her.

Xxxxxxxxx

Tyrion couldn't help but look once more to the window of his solar. The ravens are nothing but a blot now against the red and yellow horizon. Hundreds had flown that afternoon and one of them would have to fly farther than the rest, beyond the Narrow Sea. To Dragon's Bay, Daenerys Targaryen's seat of power.

It would ease up some of Tyrion's burdens if only they would send a messenger instead of a bird directly to Daenerys. Atleast they would be sure that she would get the message personally and make Tyrion knew once and for all if she really was in Meereen since their spies proved to be useless as their Braavosi employer.

Tyrion couldn't help but to shook his head in disappointment and annoyance. How useful Varys would be at this moment.

Tyrion has nothing against the Braavosi Lord but he just felt that Lord Aron was not fitting for the role he was currently in. How many times did he failed the King? First with the Queen's dragons. They were preparing for four full grown dragons since the Braavosi told them ten years ago that three out of the seven dragon eggs of the Queen hatched. Now, only a moon ago, he told them that all those seven eggs hatched after all and now fully grown. What would they do if all those seven flew with Drogon--a veteran of wars--with Queen Daenerys on his back? They were preparing for three or four dragons, but eight? Gladly Daenerys had no desire in conquering Westeros anymore or Tyrion feared they may not survive.

How many sleepless nights he had endured when he found out about those dragons? If only Lord Aron found out about the dragon eggs much sooner they would have destroyed it even before they hatched. Or maybe the dragons may serve a purpose afterall? But still, they were a threat. They were comparable to the wildfyres that used to be beneath King's Landing. An asset, yes, but a greater liability.

And now, another great failure courtesy of the great Master of Whisperers. He did not only fail to notify them of the departure of the Princess from Meereen, he also let her take Dragonstone. The most important island in Westeros as of to date. How hard can it be, really? To know when hundreds almost a thousand of ships sailed from Dragon's Bay to Westeros? Are the spies of Lord Aron blind? The spies in Essos he can understand by a fraction but the other spies in Westeros? The sailors?

Not only that. The dragons. Gods, the dragons in Dragonstone. As per usual the Master of Whisperers were late once more with the most important of news. Yesterday night, on one of their meetings, he revealed that two dragons had been seen flying around the area of the Targaryen seat. The Princess had taken her birth right six days ago, surely Lord Aron must do his job twice harder and efficiently than usual when the knowledge of Dragonstone's fall reached them. But no, no. He had to wait for almost five days before knowing that two dragons were but a few flights away from them. Lord Aron seems to be neglecting his responsibilities and that would cause them their lives. He had presented the issue to King Bran right after he finished his useless vigil in the godswood the same day they found the bodies at thte bay but the King doesn't seem to mind. He merely nodded at Tyrion as if Tyrion discussed the great weather they had. Tyrion knew the Master of Whisperers was aware of the idle talk he had made with the King thus explaining the smug grin on the Braavosi's face every time Tyrion would chance upon him in a corridor.

Tyrion would give up everything to have the pleasure of planting his fists--small they might be--to that man's pathetic face to remind him that the greatest accomplishment he had done so far was knowing the Princess's birth. And what good did that do to the realm? It only threatened the King, resulting him sending cutthroats to the Princess and in return pushing Daenerys to do drastic measures to protect her child causing the starvation of almost half the realm.

Tyrion inhaled deeply, controlling the anger that wells within him by just thinking of the man's mistakes.

Going back to his troubles with the Dragon Queen, a messenger wouldn't suffice since Daenerys' decree still stands in Essos and more so in Meereen: the Queen's capital. No Westerosi could ever step inside any city in Essos. Of course, they could hire an Essosi merchant to bring the scroll to the Queen, but would he agree? And even if he did, how sure can Tyrion be that that merchant would not be hailed as a traitor and then killed by his own countrymen if they found out he was carrying a message from the Westerosi King? Tyrion was aware of how the Essosi thinks of them and how loyal they were to their "Mhysa".

That point was moot though. The raven had already flied onwards and he cannot do anything to change that fact.

Tyrion knew it was wrong to hope against his King's wishes but Tyrion prayed to all the gods; both the old and the new, that the raven would die from strain for flying such a long distance and not reach his former Queen. Westeros be damned. They would have to make do with all the resources they had. They still need Dragonstone back though in whatever means necessary, but begging Daenerys? That won't work, he told the King so, just this morning.

Tyrion knew Daenerys. He knew her weaknesses and her strength. He knew as well what the Dragon Queen wanted most in the world; a child. A human child. And the King and his sister tried to take away that child. What reply did the King expect? But the King was desperate. Whatever he saw a week ago in the North convinced him that they would need the Dragon Queen's help and Tyrion couldn't do anything to convince the King otherwise.

What would Daenerys say if she got the message? Would she accept the King's invitation? And if she did, at what cause? Their lives? His head? These questions were always his constant companion for days now since the incident at Blackwater Bay when King Bran decided to send a message to Daenerys.

The same message King Bran wrote himself which did nothing to ease Tyrion's distress. In his paranoia he even convinced Samwell to open the scroll just to take a peek at the words and then to reseal it once more afterwards. None would be the wiser. Except the King. Or so the Grandmaester says and Tyrion reluctantly agreed. So, he watched as Grandmaester Samwell tied the uncharacteristically thick scroll on the foot of one of his strongest ravens and watched as he threw it away to the window of the Grandmaester's rookery. One thing was sure though, whatever was written in that scroll made the King so sure that Daenerys would go running to them.

Then the realization sinks into his mind. Gods, Tyrion hoped it does not involve Jon Snow--who, according to King Bran had the evidence they needed for the Lords of Westeros to believe them--for his letter too was written personally by the King. Although Jon's scroll has not been sent yet and currently in the possession of the King.

What was keeping King Bran from ordering Samwell to send a raven to his brother...cousin? It was wishful thinking, Tyrion knew, but the King might have some reservations against sending a raven to his cousin because of the verbal fight he and Jon had eleven years ago and not because of some greater scheme. He hoped.

Tyrion remembered it once more. Eddard Stark's remaining brood, quarrelling over the Princess's relation to their House and the possible implications of that truth to Queen Sansa and King Bran's rights over their crowns.

Tyrion shakes his head and reached for his goblet and drank deep the sweet Arbor gold.

He must really stop reliving that moment in his memory. What was done was done. Lady Arya and Jon sided with each other and never stepped at the capital or Winterfell since then. Even if it was the King's name day or the yearly celebration of his coronation.

Tyrion had made excuses for them to some Lords who are prying about the blatant rift in the royal family. Mostly it was Lady Arya's absence they would ask about. Tyrion would state the truth then, saying the girl was too free spirited to stay in one place. That after the lock down of Essos, she had been wondering the seven kingdoms like an adventurer. Or to the sophisticated Ladies, a rogue. Few would ask about Jon..._Aegon_. Some Lords and Ladies had forgotten he even existed at all but there are some who do and ask for mere entertainment. He was Rhaegar's son after all.

Tyrion sighed. _The last legacy of Varys the Spider. _

That was the part where Tyrion would lie since the King was always stoic and known to ignore some Lords when asked about his cousin. Tyrion became the mouthpiece of the King on those occasions rather than the Hand. Bronn would always tease him about that, calling him the mummer's puppet; the one who opened his mouth as per the wishes of the master.

Tyrion would tell the nosy Lords and Ladies then, that the son of Rhaegar was exiled to the North for his crimes, to appease the armies of the Mad Queen and leave Westeros for good. Mostly the Lords and Ladies were glad the barbarians and the eunuchs the Mad Queen had brought to their lands were all whisked away, never to return. Some were unsatisfied by the King's treatment to Jon's trial. _Kinslayers don't deserve to live a normal life_, some would say. And then some would wish for his death, since sinners like Jon were frowned upon by the gods and may cause a calamity to the realm.

They would say that as if Tyrion was not a kinslayer himself.

What the realm doesn't know though was Lady Arya and Jon's resentment towards King Bran and Queen Sansa. Lady Arya was angered that her siblings would kill a child. A child with Stark blood, Jon's blood. And it did not help either that Sansa and Bran hid the truth from Jon. Jon was more than furious by the fact that his own cousins whom he treated as siblings hide his daughter's true identity from him. That the daughter Daenerys had given birth to was his and not from some other lover like he was made to believe.

Tyrion always find it both amusing and sad that Jon, of all people, believed the lies he had made. Jon must have clinged to the idea that Daenerys had other lovers and one of those got her with child. It must have been easier, resenting Daenerys, rather than admitting to himself that he killed his own flesh and blood while it was just a quickening in his lover's womb. Tyrion could never comprehend the thoughts that must have ran on Jon's mind and the hardships he must have faced when the truth had finally been brought to light, it must have crumbled the man's world into pieces all over again.

Jon wouldn't even know the truth at all if it wasn't for Lady Arya who, on her travels, managed to meet the Princess and the Queen and then decided to tell Jon. If it was any consolation, atleast Lady Arya had some sense in eluding from Jon the greatest sins her siblings had made. That Jon's cousins tried to kill his child for the sake of power.

_My brother already killed the woman he loved and their babe with her. But they're alive and he is not the kinslayer he believed he was. I don't want him to truly become one._

It was his fault, he knew. The words he said to Jon for him to commit such an atrocious crime. The lies he made to keep the Princess's parentage a secret. All his fault.

Tyrion sighed and tried his best to ward away the guilt. His thoughts turned to the things the Small Council had discussed earlier instead just to hide from his own sins.

The Small Council rarely agreed on one thing but they concurred all together that Dragonstone's fall must be kept a secret. They all knew the Lords of Westeros were easily dissuaded especially if their lives were on the line, the gifts they sent ten years ago to Daenerys to appease her was enough evidence.

Who would not say that those cravens wouldn't run to the Dragon Queen for help the moment they found out that the items needed to save their lives were all currently in her possession? It would not do to lose some Lords and their army to the Dragon Queen and her daughter before they even planned the expedition North. And Tyrion was far too aware that some Lords and kingdoms were very much willing to bend their knees to Daenerys. Especially those who were not satisfied by the King's accession and his current governance.

Lord Aron, despite his failures was doing his best to regulate the whispers coming from some sailors who came near Dragonstone and saw the dragons and ships docked by the bay. If the crown did not confirm Dragonstone's demise then the truth of what the people saw would remain nothing but a rumor. The soldier's of Dragonstone whom the common folk saw laying dead at Blackwater Bay was said to die in an epidemic. The bodies were given back to the families but inorder to keep their lips tightly shut when they saw their relatives wound marks, the crown has to give them twice the normal compensations.

Tyrion wiped his face with the palm of his hands.

Expect Daenerys to make things complicated. She did not only take the dragonglass from them, she made sure they would lose an ample amount of gold as well and some Lords to boot if they got wind up on what was truly happening.

Not only that. The King revealed to them that he cannot _See_ Dragonstone. Tyrion was familiar with the King's magic but he would not presume to say that he truly understands it. Tyrion only knew that when King Bran's eyes were white it means he was not only on another place, but on another time as well. He can see the past, the present and some glimpses of the future. The present being blocked to the King, Tyrion knew all too well. It happened before with Daenerys and now applying with the daughter as well. Tyrion had suggested to King Bran to simply look into the past just for them to know how the Princess did what she did and for Tyrion to know as well the Princess's character.

Her weaknesses, her way of fighting, just to prepare themselves incase she invaded Westeros. Did the Princess charged in the van or just delegates? Did she prefer to ride on a dragon's back like Daenerys or fight on land with her soldiers? Tyrion did not even knew if the Princess can use those wings he kept on hearing about. The whispers of the Princess's successful expeditions varied as well, it cannot be relied on. Tyrion needed a substantial proof, a...a witness of some sorts and what better way to abuse the King's powers to their advantage? But sadly he can't.

King Bran had tried to look the very first day they found the bodies at the bay. He tried Seeing but only saw the soldiers the night before the attack on the hall of Dragonstone, having their dinner. Then, nothing. That concludes the Grandmaester Samwell's theory though, that the men were killed in the morning or at midnight. Midnight it was. But knowing the time of the Princess's invasion did not answer their questions. That was deeply worrying for Tyrion. The mother he understands but the daughter seems to be an entirely different kind of dragon, and not knowing what kind terrifies himl.

A dragon at their doorstep was very worrying. Under normal circumstances a Dragon in Westeros--whether a person or a beast--would be the top of their priorities but with the coming storm in the North it became the least of their worries. Tyrion knew he must focus on the greater problem on their table.

How would they win the war in the North?

Tyrion had sent a raven to Queen Sansa and to Lord Gendry in advance, telling them of the realms'...predicament and the coming Great Council. It was Lord Gendry who replied first. Some of the weapons he made in Winterfell was still in his possession but it was not enough for the war. A hundred axes, three thousand arrows and fifty swords. That was all he managed to collect after the war sixteen years ago. Tyrion had shown more promise in Queen Sansa's reply though since Lord Gendry affirmed on his letter that some of the weapons were given to him by the Queen in the North. But Tyrion was greatly disappointed. The remaining raw obsidian that was left in her possession was melted in to a great bonfire years ago and the ones intact and in good condition were the ones she had given to Lord Gendry.

Foolishness and madness. Sansa must have burned the dragonglass to show her hatred towards the Dragon Queen or her superiority or maybe to show her independence, Tyrion would never know and he wouldn't bother to know. Regardless, it was madness what she did and such a waste. For Sansa's part, she was doing her best to unearth the said molten dragonglass beneath a pile of snow. But it does not matter if she managed to find the glass or not, they were still as good as dead if they did not managed to mine the dragonglass at Dragonstone. And the King could have warned him about the stupidity his sister had done if only he looked into the past. Tyrion's hopes wouldn't be so crushed now if only the King was helpful enough.

The King proved to be uncaring as well by the fact that the Red Keep cannot possibly house all the Lords of Westeros. Tyrion proposed that they held the Great Council in Harrenhal since it was vacant as of the moment--the King kept it at that, despite Lord Tully's arguments, since the castle would be reward for the assassination of the Princess years and years ago--and it was easily the biggest castle in the seven kingdoms. The King proved to be quite willful. He insisted that he will not leave the Red Keep and he, Tyrion, should make do with the situation.

Tyrion sighed and organized the parchments on his desk. He so wanted to scatter those pieces off his sight. He was not only losing his temper, he was losing his patience as well. Hand of the King he might be, but it felt like he had to shoulder all the burden of the realm alone while his King had his eyes rolled up, looking at the past or whatever it was that Tyrion knew was not relevant to their problems at all. If these continues he feared he would lose a few feet more from the sheer weight thrown upon him.

He can only imagine; over a hundred major Lords and two hundred of their vassals, the knights and soldiers of those Lords would come as well, no doubt in that. Over a thousand would come, how in the seven hells would they manage to accommodate such a huge population in the Red Keep much less in King's Landing alone? Tyrion had suggested a minor solution in that, no thanks to the King nor his other council members who proved to be as useful as broken goblets. The Great Council would only consist of the major Lords while the vassals were "tasked" to protect the lands in the absence of their liege Lords. It was the major Lords that needed convincing after all. The vassals would follow after them. The number of the knights would be regulated as well, twenty soldiers or knights per Lord. But still, they wouldn't manage to accommodate all inside the Red Keep.

Thank the gods for Bronn who proposed that the soldiers would be sleeping on inns or erect a tent at the castle grounds if need be much like when the crown was holding a tourney on the King's name day. And it would bring gold to the capital as well, making the gold they just spent on the soldiers of Dragonstone's family return to the crown's treasury. That was two of their problems, solved.

Tyrion looked outside once more, the sun had set and darkness were upon the realm. Tyrion wished he hadn't noticed it, but that was the disadvantages of a sharp mind.

_Winter is coming._

In that, the Starks were always right.

Xxxxxxxxxxx

It has been far too many years since she had been at this place. The stumps were still standing, it seems. They were the only reminder of what once a holy place for the children of the forest.

She looked around at the leveled ground. She felt nostalgic just looking at it.

It felt like they were sitting there in front of her, forming a circle around a campfire. There was Anguy, and Hot Pie, and Ned, the Lord Dayne as he was called now. Lem was there as well with his piss-yellow cloak, Thoros of Myr beside him sipping on his wineskin and Tom Sevenstream plucking at his lute and singing for the small ancient woman with red eyes. And Gendry, the new Lord of Storm's End.

_Gendry._

She does not know why she was here at all. It was far too near Riverrun, the place she was supposed to go to be with her family only for them to be slaughtered...butchered at the Twins. Does she still regret it? Not dying beside her brother and mother? Not being with them when they draw their last breaths? Probably.

She looked once more on her surroundings. She remembered staying here twice as a child, with the Brotherhood. The first they camped overnight, they were looking for Beric if she remembered.

Arya closed her eyes remembering the death of the man in Winterfell. She opened it and looked at the floor she sat once when she was a child. And the one where Beric sat on when he was with them on their second stay at the place.

Since Daenerys decided to spare her life, she had never left Westeros. Essos was forbidden anyway and she must admit, she cannot bare to look at the innocent eyes of her niece without feeling the guilt weighing her down.

Little Missandei, Jon's daughter whom she was helpless to shield against her siblings' knives. But she had rectified that. She saved her. But it was not enough.

Arya had been travelling around the seven kingdoms for almost eleven years now. Unsure of what to do with herself. But everytime she happened to pass a place she spent as a girl, she would stay there and reminisced of a long, forgotten past.

There was the Ruby ford where she threw Joffrey's sword. The Darry holdfast where she stand in front of the former King, the one who was friend to her father. The forest where she hid when the Lannister men came looking for her and Nymeria. The woods where Yoren and the other brothers of the Night's Watch and her once camped. The old keep where Yoren and the rest died, and where she freed the man named Jaqen H'ghar. The cave of the Brotherhood without Banners. Harrenhal where she noticed all the horrors men can inflict upon his own kin. The hills near the Vale where the Hound fought with Brienne of Tarth, the same place where she left the man to die. The Frey towers, where she avenged the death of her mother and brother.

And Hot Pie. Thank the gods for Hot Pie. Every now and then Arya would visit him in the small inn he now owned with his wife and children. There was Arry who was a girl of seven and the boys, Lommy and Gendry, five, they were twins and as pudgy as their father. Sometimes she would teach them swordfighting using broomsticks and branches. Then she would go once more to her endless travels with her bag full of bread all made to look like direwolves.

There are other times she would wonder around the Riverlands, just listening to the howling of the wolves thinking that her old friend might be near. But she never came out. Sometimes she would visit Jon, but she would not last for a day in his company. She would have only look at the sad, dead eyes of her brother and it would make her leave knowing she played a part on the pains her brother was enduring. For years she blamed Daenerys for Jon's pains, she still blamed her. She would always blame her. But not so much that she wanted to kill her for she knew now she was but a victim as well.

Arya would leave Jon then, to his people and only visit him once a year. Until then she would come back to her usual wanderings and her reminiscing.

That was her only use it seems, to remember things that happened.

The hill of High Heart was one of the three places she was trying to avoid over the years. The Crownlands were the first on her list then Winterfell. The last two she tried to avoid for not wanting herself to truly hate her siblings for what they did, but this place? She tried to steer clear off out of fear.

"Took you long enough to come back here, girl who reek of death," said the voice behind her.

Arya turned around fast and pulled her dagger from her waist.

The old woman walked past her--not in the slightest bothered by the bare Valyrian steel--and sat on a rock beside a great white stump of what once a weirwood tree. Her gnarled hand rested at the tree stump as if petting it. She put across her knee the crooked cane she always carry. She looked the same as Arya remembered. Small, with white hair reaching to the ground, eyes red and old. Ancient as the tree around them.

She must commend the old woman. Very few people can hide their presence to her and made her jump.

"I can't believe you're still alive," Arya said putting the dagger back to its scabbard.

Arya noticed the old woman's disturbing red eyes following the dagger. Arya sat on the ground right in front of the Ghost of High Heart.

"You knew I would come back?" she asked after a long silence.

The old woman just nodded.

"Do you want to hear the future?" The old woman said with a grin that made Arya shiver.

Arya scrunched her nose.

"I can't sing."

She vaguely remembered Tom singing Jenny of Oldstones. It was the Ghost's favorite as she recalled.

The old woman only grinned wider.

"I know you don't, but this one will be free..." the Ghost said brushing her hands on the top of the stump. "...if you gave me the dagger."

Arya was always unsettled by the Ghost, she remembered being afraid of her as a girl, she was not glad to know that after all she had been through she still is.

"I'd rather let the future be, I want surprises after all." Arya stood up, preparing to leave.

"The Raven made a mistake, death girl."

She looked at the old woman who was shaking her head repeatedly in what seems to be in disappointment.

"Dragon's blood had been offered to the old gods. The blood of fire to ask for early summer. He did not know what he did, he cursed the land by shedding the blood of the Red God's champion."

Arya looked at the Ghost who stopped moving her head and looked at her in the eyes.

"You played a part too, didn't you?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Arya replied coldly.

"You could have stopped him. You could have stopped all of it."

Arya was about to open her mouth and retort once more then she remembered. _Daenerys._ It always comes back to Daenerys. And Jon. She could have stopped him with the right words.

_What's my father like?_

Missandei's foolish but adorable grin flashed in her mind.

Arya looked back at the old woman who was staring back at her deeply. She was about to say something when she heard a familiar caw. She looked up and a raven with a scroll on its feet landed on a stump beside her. She went to the raven and took the scroll, as she did the raven flew away. The scroll had a seal of wax, the direwolf of House Stark. _Sansa or Bran? _

_Dark wings, dark words._

She broke the seal with trembling hands and read its contents.

'Greetings, Lady Arya of House Stark

King Bran of House Stark, First of His Name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men, Lord of the Six Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm, would like to inform you that you must ride with haste to King's Landing to attend the Great Council that would begin two moons from now. A great storm was stirring once more at the Land of Always Winter. Your presence would be expected.'

Arya read it once more. The letter was short but it took her a long while to understand what was written. A great storm...

"No, the Night King is dead..."

I killed him, with this dagger. She would like to add. She read it once more then she felt the dread of what this must mean. Her other siblings were in the North. The other, the brother she loved was beyond the wall, nearer to the threat.

_Jon_.

She tried to swallow her dread but there was a huge lump on her throat. Fear.

"You killed one man that was turned by the guardians of the forest, but not the Great Other's children. You helped him prepare this battle, death girl."

The Ghost said with a mocking smirk on her lips.

"Your Raven King made a gamble. One cannot choose between ice and fire. There must be a balance. He chooses to destroy it. And risked the life of the Red God's lover," the Ghost mumbled to herself.

Arya did not understand the gist of what the old woman was saying. But she does remember someone mentioning a Red God and a lover.

_Yes. Asshai._

"He asked for this. Now the realm must pay with him."

The Ghost turned to her then, staring at Arya's gray eyes deeply. Arya stepped back at what she saw in the old woman's red eyes. It was wide with fear and something dangerous she cannot explain that made her reach for Needle.

The Ghost bowed her white head then jumped down from her stone and started to walk away. Her small form disappearing in the shadows.

Xxxxxxxxx

It felt great flying up in the sky but it always made her wonder. What does the other Targaryen ancestors do to recreate this feeling of...exhilaration when they lost their dragons? Was that the reason why most of them turned mad? _A Targaryen was born to fly,_ her mother used to say when she was a child. _We are dragons and fire is in our blood._

Missandei touched the sides of her sister, Nissa Nissa. Her smooth blue scales shined and glittered in the sunlight. Of all her mother's children, her Nissa Nissa was the most beautiful and graceful. She was the smallest, the runt of the litter but she was unique. Special.

_This one is for you, my small dragon._ The boy's gentle voice entered her thoughts once more.

He was no older than her, she remembered, but he was already speaking fluently that greatly impressed the then four year-old her. The pretty boy took a small dragon egg out of the sack he was dragging then handed it to her. Missandei remembered how beautiful it was and how heavy despite its size. It was relatively smaller than her mother's other dragon eggs. The dragon egg she held was blue and white, like the color of the sky, and it glittered.

_A small dragon for a small dragon. _The boy smiled at her and then put the egg back to his sack.

She lied to her mother. She remembered some things on that day. She remembered following a boy with long white hair, so long it was that it drags at the bricked street of Meereen like the long, white, silk cloth of the seamstress who came to take her and her mother's measurements. He was the one who gave her the three dragon eggs that was now Willem, Neferion and Nissa Nissa. But it was their secret, the boy and her. Their bond, exclusive only for the both of them. Her mother wasn't allowed to know.

Nissa Nissa's soft purr beneath her distracted her from the memory of the past.

Missandei looked from her sides and watched her dragon's wings flapped, brushing away some clouds on its wake. Nissa Nissa's wingspan are bigger than a normal dragon of her size. It was almost as huge as Drogon, which was unusual because her body was much too small for such enormous wings. But that only made Nissa Nissa the greatest flier amongst their siblings. Even Drogon cannot compete with her sister even if she had their mother riding him.

She leaned her body forward and it was as if Nissa Nissa can hear her thoughts, she flew up, faster than a normal dragon. Missandei laughed as her sister treat her with a spiral in the air as they flew higher and higher until they stopped and Missandei was breathless from her incessant laughing. They were so high now that she knew that they would look like nothing but a small dot in the sky to a man below, but that was if he can stare directly to the sun like her mother.

Missandei looked down and marveled by how small and irrelevant the islands were on her seat. There was Dragonstone on her right, guarded by Willem who refused to fly with them and decided to hunt for whales instead. And at her far left, although she can only see the shadow of it...Westeros.

King's Landing. She only stayed there for few hours when they give the bodies back and it was not the way she expects it to look. Or smell.

Missandei takes a deep breath savoring the clean air. That unhygienic city was the place where it all ended for her mother. Or should she say, where it all began?

Not for the first time she wondered. What would become of them if her father...the man named Jon Snow did not stab her mother? If he had loved her the way she was supposed to be loved?

If he only didn't believe the lies of his dwarf friend and came to them instead, Missandei knows deep in her heart her mother would have forgiven him, because she would make her do so. But that was before. Before everything. Before all the words she heard.

Missandei caught herself and felt disgusted by her thoughts. She pushed her doubts away and the foolish dreams of a perfectly happy family from her mind before it soured her good mood.

She looked around her and distracted herself by remembering what she was thinking before she interrupted herself with such rude thoughts.

Ah, yes.

How she felt so powerful and omniscient as she continued to look at the wide blue expanse of both the sea and the sky.

She breathed in deep the smell of the clouds once more.

When she was small--too small to be allowed to fly atop Drogon or to fly with her wings--her mother would tell her the sensation of flying. The scenery, the feeling of the wind on her face and the smell. She would always laugh whenever her mother told her that clouds indeed had a distinctive scent. She would ask if they smelled sweet like candied fruits or like cakes or if they smelled sour like lime. Her mother would laugh with her and tickle her stomach relentlessly until she forgot what she was asking in the first place. She never got the answer to that question, probably because even the eloquent Daenerys Targaryen cannot explain the scent of the mesmerizing clouds in the sky. Neither can she, for that matter and she had been flying since she was five or six.

_Gods, I missed her._ Missandei bit her bottom lip to stop it from trembling.

_You would be six and ten soon. Stop acting like you're six._ She scolded herself.

But she can't help herself from being emotional. It was the longest time and the farthest she was away from her mother. Well, except that one time when she was five? Or six? She believes she was gone for almost a month.

Missandei tried to brush that traumatic experience off of her mind and instead focused on the days she was conquering the Free Cities.

She remembered her mother was always a few flights away from her on those times and that she would always reunite with her after a few days or so. But now was different. Sure, she had seen her mother on the flames riding the fastest ship she had, accompanied with five other ships with her soldiers in it (the entirety of their army was left in Meereen to keep the peace with Irrina, Aeryk, Aegor and Neferion). Drogon and Rhaeko, the baby dragons and the two remaining dragon eggs were with her mother too. Her mother was near at their meet up point now but Missandei still can't help but long for her.

Nissa Nissa made a sad sound. She must have felt Missandei's emotions. Missandei sniffed and patted the sides of her sister. She tried her best to keep her emotions uplifted.

_We would see Mother soon, one more week and we would fly to meet her near Tyrosh then we would sail together._ She tried to convey to her sister to placate her. Then they can decide what they would do with Westeros afterwards.

_If Mother wanted it, then she shall have it._ After all, she had made a careful but effective plan to make that come true. She did not stay in King's Landing for nothing.

Missandei and Nissa Nissa flew for a while longer above the clouds before Missandei wished to go lower which Nissa Nissa swiftly obeyed. As they were flying amongst the clouds Missandei noticed a lone ship. It seems to be a long ship of an Ironborn. Her flame watching seems to be getting better by the day. Kinvara would be pleased. Oh, she cannot wait to reunite with the priestess as well. She had a lot of fun things to share with her. Especially her visit on King's Landing, no doubt her Kinvara would be amused.

But focusing on the matter at hand, she looked down once more. Following the slow movement of the small ship below.

Her mother had told her lots of stories about the men of the Iron Islands and how they were similar to their Dothraki. They followed the strong and resented the weak, they both consider the sea their home, although both of them had opposite definitions of what a sea was. The Dothraki had their horses for their Great Grass Sea while the Ironborn had their ships.

Missandei smiled. Her mother had given her specific orders before she left Meereen to make friends with her former allies if they happened to come to her. And if the flames this morning was right, the former Queen of the Iron Islands was riding that ship.

Missandei stopped Nissa Nissa's descent so as to not startle the sailors below of their presence. She learned years ago that dragons flying too low in the sky often scares people and tend to make arrows rain upon them. She wouldn't want to be peppered by projectiles early in the day even if she was wearing her Valyrian steel armor. It was particularly vexing, hearing the sound of breaking steel when it made contact to her breastplate.

_Such a great waste of good metal._

She squinted her eyes to see better the sigil on the sails of the ship, it wouldn't do good if she greeted the wrong ship. Black were the sails and gold was drawn on the center of it. It resembled a squid. She felt her stomach grumbled as she thought of how she would cook that particular seafood. Would she cut it and make a stew? Or would she grilled it and stuffed it with herbs inside? Gods, she was starving. She hoped the Ironborn had some food with them since she just missed her lunch for waiting for them.

She whispered a command to her dragon to stay above the clouds as she would be greeting the sailors below. Missandei closed her eyes and then let herself slip sideways from her dragon's back. She was falling headfirst, then Missandei opened her folded wings.

Missandei's wings resembled that of a dragon's. It was leathery and strong and it can carry her just fine. It was approximately six feet in length and wide enough that when it was folded it can cover her body like a cloak. It has the color of black, red and gold, so was the scales in her back.

Her wings, though her burden, was also her pride and joy. Nothing can beat the sensation of flying beside a dragon and playing with them as opposed of just sitting on their back. It made her feel like she was one of them, like she belonged.

She felt her opened wings caught the wind like sails of a ship. Her descent had slowed down. She opened her eyes and glided in the sky before flapping her wings to control where she would land. It wouldn't do to land in the deck where brawny men were working with the ropes. She can easily ward them off with her ancient short-sword and knifes if she wanted, but she felt it was far too early for a bloodshed. Besides, that would defy her mother's orders to make friends. And the Ironborn were most likely not to share their food if they were dead and it would bring ill-luck to steal food from the deceased.

She decided to land at the beam of the huge sail instead. Right below a sickly looking scrawny boy--who seems to be more likely to vomit on her than to stab her--who was sitting atop the mast. The sound of her wings had alerted the boy and his mouth hang opened as he watched her fly lower.

Missandei smiled in what she hoped is a reassuring one and landed right below him.

"Hullo--Oh!"

The boy with his eyes wide, started standing up but since the top of the mast was not as spacious for such rash movements, the moment he stood up, his feet missed. The boy started to lose his balance then fall with his arms flailing in the air. Fortunately for him Missandei's reflexes was fast. She managed to dive in time and grab the boy by his flailing arms.

"Oof, heavy..." Missandei grunted.

She was not used to carrying people around with her wings and she was not amused by the experience at all. Her wings can barely lift them up, it was only by her sheer will and stubbornness that kept them from crushing down.

She had no choice but to fly down now. That or let the boy go, let him deal with a broken leg or an arm maybe. It won't kill him. But she decided not to. She was, after all, the reason why he fell on the first place. It won't do with her conscience if something bad happened to him now.

She breathed a sigh of relieve as she discarded her heavy cargo on the deck of the ship.

The boy, seemingly weakened by the experience, kneeled and looked up at her with his eyes and mouth opened wide.

"I mean no harm," Missandei started slowly, trying to calm the boy who was now starting to gasped for air fast as if he was having trouble breathing.

But the boy clearly was on a state of panic for the moment Missandei folded her aching wings behind her back the boy started screaming while pointing at her.

"Shh! Shh!" Missandei tried to quiet the boy down but she was too late.

And besides she landed on the most crowded place on the deck and she knew the only reason the men did not tried to kill her already was because of their surprise over seeing a fully armored girl that came from above.

"Monster!"

She heard someone scream behind her. She rolled her eyes and face the men who was now preparing to murder her, their swords bare on their hands, some even had arrows knocked at their bows.

Missandei sighed. _Yes, my usual effect towards men._

She raised her hands and smiled as sweetly as she can.

"Not a monster, my Lord, but a messenger of Queen Daenerys Stormborn."

Xxxxxxxxxxx

Yara was at her cabin below looking at the map on the table.

Dragonstone.

One of her captain had said he saw not only one, but two dragons flying around the Targaryen seat. Not only that, hundreds of ships were docked at the beach of the old seat of the Dragon Kings. All of them had their sails painted in black and red.

The Dragon Queen was back and she would like to see it for herself.

Yara rolled up the map and sat back to her chair. She remembered the day the world had known that Daenerys Stormborn was alive. A miracle.

_What is dead may never die but rises again harder and stronger._

She had chosen the right queen, she knew. She heard years ago of how the Dragon Queen had taken Dragon's Bay once more and the Dothraki horde fighting for her again, screaming her name as they strike the slavers' head off their bodies.

Yara grinned. Even the daughter was a conqueror as well. The Free Cities bowed before them almost effortlessly. The Mother of Dragons and her winged child. Or so the rumors say, at least.

She awaited for her Queen to come back to Westeros, to make herself be of use once more to the Mother of Dragons. She awaited for a message, a sign, but none came. She did not want to send a message herself for the fear of being executed for treason. She knew she was being closely watched and all the Dragon Queen's former allies by the Braavosi's spies. One move and their heads would roll to the ground like pebbles. Especially with whatever sorcery the Broken King was using, none of them were safe.

Then her Queen finally made a move.

Yara almost laughed loudly remembering the three years of starvation Daenerys had brought to the realm. Well, her people did not starved, her Queen remembered her still and her allies.

On the first year of the Queen's decree of shutting Essos's ports to Westeros one of her captain met some pirates on the sea. They took all of their hauls for the day and every valuable they could find. The unusual part was the pirates did not hurt any of the crew, they intimidated the fools by pointing arrows and showing off their numbers and the cravens surrenderd without a fight.

Yara almost spat at that memory. It still gave her satisfaction remembering the crunch the captain's nose made when she punched it. _They were the ones who take! They were Ironborn! They paid the iron price!_ She shouted in her mind.

Yara does not know what was more humiliating: their things being stolen by pirates or her men surrendering their haul without a fight.

She then took her best ship and her most ruthless men and chased the pirates until they reached an inhabited island near Naath. There the truth was finally revealed. What was waiting for them at the beach was provisions she knew that would last for a year or more. She didn't get the stolen things from the ship back but it was a small compensation from what she got in return. There it was, a message from her Queen in a form of a letter: _I did not forget._

Ten years had passed since that day and her Queen's wrath only lasted for three years but Daenerys still had not forgotten her and Dorne as well. Even now, their ports were one of the few that the Queen allowed for her merchants to trade with. By doing so, the Iron Islands became valuable to the crippled Usurper. They would have starved if Yara had not opened her ports to the merchants of King's Landing and Lannisport. Dorne did the same as well, now they were getting richer and richer for some merchants feared to venture beyond the Narrow Sea for the fear of "pirates" and traded with them instead.

The Dragon Queen might have given orders to stop their ravings but she had given them something in return.

Yara scoffed in amusement as she unsheathed her knife and twirled it in her hands. Daenerys had grown more clever by the day. She did not only cut down the numbers of Westerosi merchants and potential spies at her ports, she also made sure her allies remained loyal to her by making them rich.

And now a test of some kind was brought upon them.

If the rumors were true, Dragonstone flies once more the banner bearing the Three-Headed dragon of House Targaryen. Her Queen had made her greatest move yet against Westeros. Will her allies come to her aid if needed? Will she take the Seven Kingdoms afterwards?

Whatever the reason of taking Dragonstone back, Yara would still follow Daenerys, the Queen among Queens. The dead who lived and now harder and stronger than she ever was.

And some say even more beautiful.

Gods be damned, she wanted to see her personally, just to speak to her and to see if the rumors were true about her...newly found beauty. But Yara knew she can't. She needed to be careful. She was of no use to the Dragon Queen dead.

She does not know how the King's sorcery works but it was said he can see the present, the past and even the future. Even by some miracle she managed to evade the Cripple's sight and reached Mereen like she wanted to for so long, she knew the spies would report it back to the Braavosi and the king's pet dwarf. She needed to be careful, even now, she needed to make sure that their routes were different from the one they usually take when they sail near Dragonstone, to make it look like they were but sailing towards Tyrosh or any of the Free Cities to trade.

She only wanted a glimpse, that's all. Just a sign that the Dragon was indeed back to its proper place.

Yara frowned as she heard some commotion outside her cabin. Someone was running and in haste, then a loud knock at her door as if rushed made her stood up from her chair. She opened the door and it was Urel with his big face, pale as a porridge and eyes round with fear. He opened his mouth to say something but it was interrupted by the deafening sound of a flapping of wings and a screech so loud she felt her ears rang. The ship started to sway as well as if it was being ravaged by a huge wave.

_Dragon_.

She pushed Urel away and ran as fast as her body can despite the sway of the ship caused by the creature's flapping wings above them.

The dragon must have been huge. Was it the black and red one of her Queen? Or one of the new dragons Yara heard her Queen now had?

She awaited for a horn to sound but none came. _That boy!_

She had ordered for the boy to look for dragons and warn them. He had one job.

_Unless he was eaten?_

When she reached the deck the creature was already flying away, but Yara saw clearly what it was. It was really a dragon. A different one from her Queen's, far more beautiful and smaller. But its wings, its huge.

Yara watched the dragon fly away, its blue and white scales seems to be glittering against the sun's glare. The dragon fly higher and higher and hide itself in the clouds.

"Who among you is the captain?" A sweet voice said.

Yara felt her neck snapped by the fast motion she did when she leveled her stare, looking for the owner of the voice.

Yara was familiar with that voice. She walked forward and the crew parted as she did, showing the one who asked for her.

It was a small girl by the looks of her. She was wearing the most terrifyingly beautiful armor she had ever seen. From the breastplate to the clawed tips of her sabatons, to her gauntlets. Even her cloak were fashioned to make the girl resemble a dragon. Yara looked at the face of the girl but she can't see much for she was wearing a helm shaped to be a dragon's head.

"M'lady...s-she came down from above and she--" One of her crew whispered at her with trembling voice.

"_She_, has a name," the girl said and smiled at them.

Yara was surprised.

The girl was a bit far and she knew no one would have heard what was whispered to her in that distance. Yara watched as the armored girl sat on a barrel and played with her long, tightly braided silver hair.

"I am the captain," Yara said moving forward. "And who might you be?"

The girl stood up and walked. The boy whom she ordered to be looking out for dragons was now cowering behind a barrel, shuffling farther away from the girl.

_Atleast he was not eaten._

The dragon girl stopped walking and stood a few feet away from her and her men.

"Ah, I thought it was pretty obvious who I am Queen Yara. You are Yara right?" The girl tilted her head and by doing so made her helm catch light.

Valyrian steel. The girl was wearing valyrian steel from the tip of the horns of her helm right to the sharp talons of her sabatons. The armor was dyed black and red but the ripples still showed and almost blinded her when the sunlight touched the girl's body. Even the girl's skin was glowing as if sunlight runs beneath it.

"Ah! I must have forgotten."

The girl lifted her hands and touched her head seemingly realizing only then that she was wearing a helm. The girl took it off then gave her a very beautiful smile, showing off her perfect white teeth.

Yara knew that face well. That ethereal beauty, that smile.

"Valyrian steel, so light I didn't even know I was wearing one," the Queen chuckled and then shakes her head.

Yara kneeled. The men knelt as well, a little reluctant.

"My Queen--"

"_Queen?_" Daenerys asked almost shouting, then she scoffed in annoyance.

Yara bowed her head lower, fearing that she had offended the Dragon Queen.

"I apologize my Queen, you may not have taken back Westeros but--"

"But I'm not the Queen, Yara...can I call you Yara?"

Yara lifted her head then stood up from where she knelt, the men followed her. She felt them looking back and forth from her and the woman in front of them, confused.

"I'm not the Queen. Well, not atleast for years and years yet, that's for sure." The Queen who was not, shrugged her shoulders and smiled at her once more.

She looked intently at the girl in front of her. She surely had the Queen's face but she seemed younger and...warmer. She was grinning mischievously at them, Daenerys wouldn't smile like that. Every smile Daenerys showed was calculated, part of a plan to derail an enemy or charm an ally. The Dragon Queen was not...carefree as this girl was showing to be.

The grin from the girl's face made Yara sure the girl was enjoying the mistake Yara had made.

As Yara looked at the girl longer she finally noticed the difference. The girl's smiling eyes were...unusual. Yara cannot discern the color of it but she was sure it was not the dark purple color she remembered the Queen had. Even the long braided hair were off. Dark silver like ashes and not the silver-blonde of the Targaryen Queen.

Yara frowned and then she realized who was standing in front of her.

"The winged child," she muttered. Shocked to see that the rumor was not a rumor after all.

The girl just smiled at her, then as if to prove identity, the Princess opened the huge cloak on her back and curtsy at them. The cloak behind the girl was not a cloak, it was wings.

She heard gasps and some of her men gripped their swords tightly, preparing for a fight. Yara stepped back and instinctively gripped the knife that was still on her hands tightly. She was stunned and if she was completely honest, afraid.

"Missandei Fyre, natural daughter of Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen. My enemies call me the Gargoyle and some fanatical priests and mages calls me the Bringer of Light or whatever it was in the common tongue anyway. But, you can call me Missandei."

Yara watched as Missandei folded her wings once more on her back.

They were all too shocked to make a move or utter a word. Yara had seen plenty of unusual things, but this? A winged girl, wearing valyrian steel--the most rarest of all items in the known world--was something she did not expect when she came looking for her Queen.

The Princess's smile faltered as the silence stretched further.

"And the one who rudely interrupted us from a fight was my sister, Nissa Nissa." She said to the men apologetically but also to break the uncomfortable silence.

"We should talk," Yara said, finally finding her voice.

"Oh, yes," Missandei nodded vigorously then walked towards her, her sabatons making clinking sounds when it made contact to the wood of the deck. "We should eat as well, I'm famished. Do you have squids?"

**Note:**

So so so, sorry for my late update. I was busy getting a job. I just graduated from college and all and I badly needed to be employed to pay the rent...so...*shrugs*. While I was waiting for the calls, I tried my best to write. So here it is. Not my best...a _little_ bit confusing but you'll know more on the next chapter's ahead.

Btw. I was a little reluctant on including Arya's POV in this chapter coz it might confuse some of you. But then I remembered, it's my fic I can do anything with it. Screw the doubts and hesitation.

Arya's POV was based in the books. So, sorry if some of you are confused since the Ghost of High Heart was not included in the show. I'm a little nostalgic writing Arya, remembering her adventures and hardships.

I know Arya's POV had some confusing parts other than the Ghost. But I promised all will come to light later in the chapters. *Now you know why I'm reluctant on including this*

Arya and Missandei met? Wait for the next chapters. Just saying there was this theory that the world of ice and fire was round, just like ours. In the Fire and Blood book there was an Elissa Farman who travelled west of Westeros, just like Arya. Corlys Velaryon, the Sea Snake saw what was left of Eilssa's ship docked in Asshai. So it was more likely Arya managed to do the same and end up in Asshai. We will see more about Arya's time in Essos maybe three or five chapters after this and her confrontation with Bran and Sansa.


	8. To Dragonstone

**Note:**

This chapter is by far the longest I made. The chapters would be longer from now on, I guess. Not sure. One thing's for certain; I'll give you a Jon chapter next. I was starting to write it now, btw.

Ps.

I edited the chapter before this (Ravens). Just added some minor details I overlooked, nothing major. (Gomenasai!)

Xxxxxxxxx

She was sailing once more. To Dragonstone. The last time she went there, she encountered tragedy after tragedy.

First was the destruction of her armada. Losing her allies. Then Viserion's death, Rhaegal, most of her Dothraki bloodriders...Jorah.

Missandei.

Then as if that wasn't tragic enough, she was betrayed as well. By her advisors: the Spider and the Imp. And then by Him. Her lover...her nephew. The last person at that time she relied on to be with her, to take her side, to understand her because he was her family. _The last of her family._ But apparently he never thought of her as such. Not his lover, not even his aunt, but only his Queen. His Queen he cannot bare to serve, the one he needed to kill to free himself of the responsibility of being with her.

Kinslaying or breaking his oath. Stark or Targaryen. He made a choice and it was not her.

_Yes, and that was even more painful isn't it?_ Missandei's words echoed in her mind once more.

Yes, it does. No matter how long it was. It still hurts not because she loved him, no, but because he rejected her. She who gave everything up, who sacrificed everything, who shared her bed with him only to be thrown away like a...a common whore because of what? Because of her mistake?

No, that was even before that. It was because his Stark honor prevented him to choose her. His Stark honor that commands him to repulse her and their relationship. The same honor that dictates him to kill her.

Dany clutched her chest, right there at the scar he had left her as his curly locks and gray eyes pervades her memory once more. Poisoning her thoughts with his smile, his voice...his scent.

His words.

_Not Dany then, how about my queen?_

Dany closed her eyes. She killed him in her mind like she does every time an image of him passed by her thoughts.

_He is dead to me._

_If I look back, I'm lost._ She repeated the words in her head like she often do to calm her nerves.

But the words did nothing to erase the inconsistency she felt. Dany made a promise to herself and her unborn child on the first weeks of her ressurection that she would never doubt. Yet here she was worrying for her daughter, doubting her own decisions of sending her child and not taking Dragonstone with her.

Was she doing the right thing, sailing towards Westeros again? Would she lose everything once more because of it? Would she lose another Missandei, her daughter this time?

Dany scoffed involuntarily, banishing the foolish questions off of her mind.

No, she was not sailing to Westeros. She was merely going to Dragonstone to ensure everything was in perfect order and to be with her daughter. That's why she did not sail with the full force of her army but only went to sea with five ships, why she left her Dothraki horde and take only the bloodriders that was most loyal to her. The reason she left four of her children in Meereen no matter how hard it was for her to part with them.

Dany frowned when a sudden realization hits her. How easy it was to conquer Westeros now if she attacked with the full strength of the Dothraki, the Free Cities and Dragon's Bay behind her, with ten dragons flying with her in the sky and two more to come, and in land, her daughter's army--the finest warrios Essos had ever seen--would be more than a match to any knights and peasants this Broken King can conjure. She would win, she knew.

She must admit, she was tempted. The fruit was there in front of her once more, ripe for the taking if only she reached for it and grasp it.

But, no.

She knew by now that that fruit may look sweet, but its insides were rotten and full of worms. She had tasted but a small fraction of the poisonous fruit named Queen of the Seven Kingdoms and she died because of it. She will not make the same mistakes.

Besides, what was the need of having a kingdom full of traitors and kinslayers who were more likely to stab her than to bend their knees to her? What use Westeros was to her when the Storm finally came and made it an icy wasteland? Westeros was never worthy of House Targaryen. What she wanted to do was to take back what was theirs and to stop that crippled King to use her family's resources to fix the problems on his domain. The same troubles he invited in the first place.

What she wanted to do was to take the place that was stolen from them twice by usurpers and false kings; Dragonstone.

The first time it was given to Stannis Baratheon by his usurper brother, Dany was but a small child. Defenseless and powerless. When she finally claimed Dragonstone almost seventeen years ago, she barely breaks a sweat. She never conquered it, she simply moved in. Six years had passed since her death, it has been taken then by the Broken King. Now, Dany had the resources and the power to take it back. In fact, her daughter already conquered the seat of their House like she knew she would.

It was far too late and a madness to turn the ships around now to go back to Meereen simply because she was feeling apprehensive for sailing near Westeros.

Not when her daughter already established the pride of House Targaryen, not when they had shown the known world that no one steals from a dragon.

If that was the case, then why does she still felt...uneasy?

"What troubles you, my Queen?" Daario speaks behind her, noticing her distress.

Dany only shakes her head in response. Even she had some trouble knowing what bothers her. Was it because of her daughter's absence? No, she blamed the dreams. Wasn't that the reason why she was on the deck at the first place? To escape the memories of the nightmares she was having ever since her daughter left Meereen?

Dany's nightmares were always the same. It was either the burning of King's Landing or...that one. That moment in the throne room. But her dreams were different for weeks now. Different in a way that she was seeing it as a spectator and her daughter, her Missandei was the one talking to that man. That Missandei was the one flying on Drogon's back, screaming in fury as she burned King's Landing.

Last night she dreamed of the throne room once more. Dany watched helplessly as her daughter spoke the words her mouth uttered sixteen years ago with voice cold and almost emotionless. Not like her sweet daughter.

Dany screamed then, begging for her daughter to stop. To halt the words flowing from her mouth, because by then Dany noticed the face of that man, the conflict in it then finally his conviction. When Missandei wouldn't listen, Dany turned to him, hoping that he would listen to her. She called him, begged him to spare her child. Their child. But it happened nonetheless. He stabbed her daughter, then Dany woke up with sweat covering her body, her sheets; burning.

_I should have taken Dragonstone myself or help Missandei get it atleast._ Dany said to herself while gripping the railings of the ship. She wouldn't worry this much if she did not listen to her daughter.

But Missandei insisted--like she always does--that she would do it. Missandei even begged Dany that she should stay in Meereen for a few weeks after her departure to ensure peace and to fool the spies--if there were any left--that Dany intend to do nothing against the Broken King, that she was still ignorant of the coming Storm. Dany saw the logic in her daughter's advice, even Kinvara agreed as well, so that left her no choice but to agree.

Although her daughter's plan of leaving her was wise, she still cannot help but suspect her daughter's hidden intentions. Missandei probably wanted her to stay far away from the battle as possible. Far away from the range of Westerosi soldiers for the fear they might target her, deeming her--the Dragon Queen as the greater threat. That she might die.

Dany sighed as their ship swayed a little as it moved forward at a snail's pace. She tried her best to subdue the scowl she would have made in her impatience and annoyance on their slow movements. She knew these was the fastest ships a man can ever make but it was far too slow for Dany.

Not for the first time she longed to ride Drogon to fly directly to Dragonstone, to meet her daughters up in the sky. That was if Missandei was still up there.

_Where is she?_

After a few minutes of struggling with herself, she finally gave up. For probably a hundred time since at dawn where Dany started her vigil at the deck, she lifted her face and stared past the glare of the sun, trying to look for a familiar silhouette of a small dragon with enormous wings or a small shadow of a winged girl flying down from the clouds.

All she saw was Drogon's enormous figure with his black and red scales and Rhaeko's smaller one, his red with black outline glinting at the afternoon sun as they play with a huge fish they just caught.

Dany closed her eyes and breathed in the salty smell of the sea to ease her nerves. When she felt composed enough, she turned her face forward once more.

Missandei was supposed to meet them halfway on their journey, that was the plan. But her daughter was late. Missandei, for all her carelessness and carefree attitude, actually values time. But she was late for three days.

Kinvara had told her two weeks ago that she saw Missandei sailing in a ship with Yara. Which was good news to Dany at that time.

The Kraken remains loyal.

But then her daughter invited Yara at Dragonstone and keep her company for two days and one night, delaying their plans of meeting up near Tyrosh. Kinvara had told her that Missandei, at the least, had not forgotten her orders of giving Yara the Valyrian steel sword Dany ordered Missandei to make years ago in Meereen, when her daughter miraculously managed to create spell-forged steel from a normal chunk of metal.

But Missandei's departure from Dragonstone was more than a week ago. The Red Priestess had told her that her Princess was flying with Nissa Nissa about an hour before her vigil at the deck. But where was she going? And what was taking her so long?

Then Dany felt her heart pound faster on the possibilities of her daughter's delay. All of it fuelled the fear lurking within her. Was Nissa Nissa speared by a scorpion? Perhaps the crippled's Master of Ships ambushed her daughter like the way Euron did to her. Was her daughter hurt? Or worse, taken as a prisoner by her broken cousin?

Dany, in her worry and anger, gripped the wooden railings of the deck tighter. It had taken every ounce of control in her body to remain there and not run like a mad woman to Kinvara's cabin and ask her, maybe for a tenth time that day, about her daughter. Or to keep the fire within her contained and not burn everything she touched.

She would break him, that Brandon Stark, more than he already was if he so much as touch a single strand of her daughter's hair. She would turn his kingdom to a blazing inferno even before the Great Other can turn it to his dead land.

"You worry too much, Daenerys."

Daario said in a placating manner, distracting Dany from her disturbing thoughts. Distracted she was, but his words did nothing but only to aggravate her more.

Dany turned around and face him, an angry scowl marring her face.

"How can I not worry? She's my daughter," she said, almost seething.

How can he understand? The pain, the panic she was feeling just thinking about the dangers her child may have encountered? Her only human child. How can she not worry? How can she not blame herself if anything would happen to her? She, who allowed her own child to go to Dragonstone, an island only a few miles away from King's Landing? If her daughter was indeed taken or hurt, how can she live knowing it was her fault?

"You said so yourself," Daario said with a smirk, seemingly unperturbed by the danger in her voice. "She _is_ your daughter. Have some faith, your Grace."

"That's why I'm worried," she replied almost a whisper.

Wasn't that the reason she was reluctant on letting her daughter go without her? That Missandei might do the same mistakes she did? And yes, that was probably the true reason why she was being plagued by nightmares. She feared not only for her daughter's life but also her heart. Her daughter was stubborn and proud, naive and gullible much like she was sixteen years ago.

Her words wiped the smirk off of Daario's face when he finally understood what she was trying to imply. A man with a knife was all it takes to kill Daenerys Stromborn, the Mother of Dragons. Whose to say her daughter wouldn't face the same fate in her travels? To meet a man that she would love only to be killed by him?

No, that was far more worse than being captured by the crippled.

"No," Daario said more serious this time but worry was there in his eyes.

Dany blinked, ridding away those unpalatable thoughts by focusing on Daario's words.

"Missandei had something you didn't have when you take Westeros."

Dany frowned, turning her body to face Daario fully. She watched as he walked nearer only to stop a few feet away from where she stands then leaned on the railing. His cocky smirk was back on his face.

"An overprotective mother."

Dany raised her brows at that. Then an unwilling smile spread on her face.

"I thought you were going to say, _Daario Naharis_."

The sellsword shrugged then chuckled, amused.

"Yes, I was about to say that but I figured it was a good day to be humble."

Dany only shook her head in amusement. She sighed as she looked back at the sea, savoring the sway of the ship now that she was a little bit calm. Yes, she would kill any man foolish enough to break her daughter's heart. She would tear him limb from limb then feed him to her children for supper.

As she began to relax, she started to feel a little bit guilty on her outburst earlier. She realized it was ill mannered of her to turn her temper towards Daario when all he did was to ease her worries. But in her defense, the simple thought of her daughter in captivity by her worst enemies made her mad with anger. And the possibilities of her daughter experiencing the same pain and humiliation she felt before when she was thrown away made her more than furious.

Still, she should control her temper more.

But one must understand, Missandei was the only thing that she had that warmed her heart. Truly, warmed it. Her child was above her dragons or her new empire, more than gold or any riches at all. Missandei was her miracle and the hope of her House. And if Dany can truly allow herself to be selfish, she would wrap her child in a blanket and tried her best to keep her away from the cruelty of the world.

But her daughter was a Targaryen; born to conquer, to fight, and she cannot do anything to stop her. She tried it once, to restrain the fire within her child, but she only made it worse. The result of it was Qarth.

A dragon is not a slave and Dany's daughter was more dragon than she ever was.

And Daario was correct, of course. She should not worry this much. This was not the first time her daughter ventured on a conquest after all.

But this was different. Missandei had never been this far from her before. Well, except for that one time when her daughter flew off on Drogon and did not come back for almost a full moon. Nothing can compare to the grief she felt at that time. But that doesn't mean it was easier this time.

Here she was, still staring at the horizon just like she did before, pining for her child to come home to her. Wishing she was unhurt or just simply...breathing.

Dany exhaled a shaky breath. She clasped her hands together to stop itself from shaking. She was worrying again she knows. But she cannot help it.

_Where are you, Missandei?_

She would have sighed more until she saw Daario at the peripheral of her vision. She turned her face slightly to see what the sellsword was up to this time.

Daario was still leaning placidly on the railings of the deck. She watched as he tossed a dried olive in the air and then catches it with his mouth.

_Where did he got that? _

Daario wiggled his eyebrows at her as he chew. Dany only looked at him dumbfounded, unsure of what to say or react. She was suddenly torn between being entertained and worrying about her child.

"You're a tough crowd, huh?" He said with his usual playful smirk.

Dany only shook her head at him and tried her best to look stern, but she was--despite herself--quite amused by the sellsword's antics to stop her from worrying.

"Daario, if you wanted to impress me by catching olives, you better stop."

"But it's working," Daario said, his smirk turning into a full grin.

Dany rolled her eyes and turned her back on him. She so envied his optimism and his carefree attitude. The same carelessnes he managed to pass on to Missandei despite the fact that he was not--in any way--related to her daughter.

She heard the sellsword sigh deeply then walked nearer only stopping when he was directly behind her.

"Your Grace," he started while putting his calloused hands on her bare arms. "Missandei has Grey Worm and the Unsullied, her Dragonspawns as well. And let's not forget she has two dragons with her. Missandei can also defend herself pretty well. I should know, I taught that little dragon how." Daario ended his speech with a hint of pride in his last sentence.

Yes, her daughter had her army, an armada and dragons. But didn't she have the same power when she came to Dragonstone almost seventeen years ago? And where did that got her?

"But..." Dany said weakly, uncertain of what to say next. She doesn't even know why she was arguing with him in the first place. Why she felt strongly that her daughter was hurt or in danger when she knew--by Kinvara's words and assurances--that she was not at all. That she was flying to her. Coming home to her.

"...she's reckles." She finally said.

Daario chuckled behind her and started rubbing his hands on her arms.

"Yes, she is. But she's not stupid. If she was, she should have died years ago when she freed the slaves or when she stopped the revolt in Qarth."

Daario's words did not calm Dany one bit unlike the way it did earlier. And his hands on her skin did not help as well. His proximity unsettles her.

She clutched Daario's hands to stop its movement but it must have send a different message to him.

"My Queen..." he whispered to her then leaned his face on her neck. Dany felt shivers run down her spine as he kissed it.

_No._

"You know, my Queen," he whispered on her ear, his beard slightly grazing the shell of it. "Maybe you just need something that would ease you up. You are so tense. I know a trick or two to make you feel good."

Of course, Daario would suggest that. He always did everytime Missandei was not in the vicinity. She knew in her gut it was the reason why the man followed her in the deck in the first place despite her orders to be left alone.

"Daario..." Dany tried to shrug him off. An inexplicable but not entirely unfamiliar feeling ran all over her system making her skin rough with goosebumps.

She took his hands off of her arms and face the man.

They had not been together that way for so many years, but Dany admired his persistence nonetheless. She smiled sadly at him and said the word she always uttered whenever he tried his luck on her.

"No."

His sigh was more of a resigned one rather than disappointed. He was used to this. She had been rejecting him for so long now that Dany felt pity towards him.

For her part, she tried as well, to fall back to her former life with Daario. But it just doesn't felt right to her anymore. Something was wrong and she knew it was with her.

Ever since she woke up her...desires were off. She thought that maybe it was because she was with child. But when Missandei came out, she remained the same; unaffected by the desires that once conquered her body. Again, she made an excuse to herself that she was just too preoccupied with her beautiful, adorable, little dragon babe. And when Essos was turned almost into a battleground and men were coming for her to kill her and her babe, her desires became the least of her priorities.

Even when she finally established a modicum of peace in Essos, being Queen of Dragon's Bay once more and Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, her daughter finally safe as she can possibly be inside the Great Pyramid of Meereen; she still remained unmoved by Daario or any other suitors' appeal. At that moment she knew then that maybe something was taken from her when she came back.

She had confided with Kinvara about her feelings...or the lack of it, when they finally reunited in Meereen. The Red Priestess and some of her brothers and sisters were lucky they managed to escape Volantis when the Tigers decided they were a threat and a traitor for helping Daenerys the Breaker of Chains and for keeping her in their temple for almost a year. Dany was never popular in that city before she and her daughter liberated it. Anyhow, the Red Priestess told her that what was happening to her body was to be expected. That some of the people whom the Lord of Light brought back from the abyss had some of the essences of their character being stripped away from them.

In her case, it seemed to be her wanton desires. She no longer felt any carnality towards any man...or woman, for that matter.

The irony of it all never fails to put a bitter smile on Dany's lips. She could only imagine all the things she could have achieved if she did not felt any attraction towards the man who stabbed her. But then again, if that happened she would not have had her Missandei in the first place. And as vexing as her daughter can be sometimes, she was worth all the pain and all the loss she had.

Dany clasped Daario's huge, rough hands on her small ones and looked deeply into his blue eyes.

"Daario--"

"No," he said with a stubborn frown. His smugness was gone, replaced by a more serious expression.

That was their little game. She would reply 'no' to him whenever he would try to seduce her and he would throw the same word at her whenever she tried to dissuade him of his love. Dany tried to hide her sadness and guilt with an indulgent smile.

"You didn't even let me finish my words," she said to him patiently.

Dany let go of Daario's hands which he placed on her hips instead, seemingly unable to resist himself from touching her. She allowed him this closeness. She owed it to the man who remained loyal to her despite the dwarf's and everyone's criticism of him being just a sellsword.

After all, it was Daario who was there with her when she pushed Missandei out in to the world. It was Daario who held her hand and comforted her when she saw the deformity on her daughter's back, it was Daario who sneaked her daughter out of her bed in the middle of the night, risking his own neck by disobeying her just to teach her daughter how to use a sword or smuggling Missandei out just to play with the other children whenever her daughter felt lonely. It was Daario who saved her daughter's life twice from the cutthroats. It was Daario who was with her now and had never left her side no matter how hard she pushed him away.

"It's because I know what you're going to say, Daenerys." Daario said masking his sadness with a cocky smirk. "And the answer would always remain the same."

_My sword is yours. My life is yours. My love is yours._

Not for the first time, Dany felt the heaviness of guilt weigh her down. She looked up at him, she knew she had said this about a thousand times, but she still chanced to say it. She knew he wouldn't listen to her anyway but she had to try once more.

"You need to find another, Daario," she said to him with deep conviction that she hoped she would be able to channel to him.

Daario only chuckled while shaking his head.

"Not one of your whores. And certainly not me," she continued stubbornly as he kept on shaking his head. "But a wife whom you will share your woes, who--"

"Daenerys, _enough._"

Dany shuts her mouth and pursed her lips. She was fighting the urge to reprimand him for commanding her, his Queen. But she was not the Dragon Queen at that moment. She was just Daenerys, his friend. So, she stopped talking and looked at him, really looked at him.

He had grown older. There were white strands on his beard and dark hair and deep wrinkles appeared in the corner of his eyes and forehead.

While she? She knew what she looked like when she gaze at a mirror. She looked the same as she was sixteen years ago. Unmoved, unchanged...unnatural. That was another thing this Lord of Light had taken from her: aging.

As Dany was looking up at Daario, she was reminded of an old knight she tried to push away as well, years and years ago.

He died. He died without having the love he wanted and deserves.

That won't happen again, Dany promised. Not if she can help it.

Dany watched as the man in front of her struggled to form words to throw at her.

Dany knew how hard it was for him. But Daario needed to be with a woman that would love him and Dany was not that. She could never deserve Daario neither the whores the sellsword kept to relieve himself. What he needed was love. And that was something she cannot give for that was what she lacks.

And if by some miracle her heart does heal and she had forgotten the pain of betrayal from the man who took everything from her, she still would never be what Daario wanted. Because her body--despite its warmth--was cold. And Daario was a man of passion, if she was the old Daenerys she would have been with him, marry him if she wanted to, but that was a lifetime ago. The Daenerys now cannot even bare to be touched by Daario, let alone be in bed with him.

Dany opened her mouth to press her case once more but stopped when she heard a distant flap of wings. Daario who was struggling to say something as well frowned and squinted at the sky. Dany looked up but unlike Daario the glare from the sun barely hindered her sight.

Then Drogon gave a mighty roar of welcome.

Dany smiled despite the emotion she was feeling as Drogon and Rhaeko flew higher. Then a commotion caught her attention.

There were shouts and loud bangings coming from below the decks. Then a screech of two dragons came from behind them, from Jorahndal and Barriston who managed to bust out of their cages and her cabin where they were put in. _Again_. She just hoped her sons did not set her whole room on fire. Or her bed. She had been causing too much pain to that undeserving furniture lately.

Dany sighed. She has yet to teach discipline to her younger children. She made a promise she would when they reach Dragonstone. She cannot let the two smaller dragons fly freely. Although they had indeed grown aggressively (almost outgrewing their cages) over the months, they were still far too vulnerable to be left alone, not until they were trained. For now, she can only watch as the two dragons flew off to meet their siblings up in the sky.

Dany watched as her four sons flew off to met their sisters.

Nissa Nissa's small figure was up above the clouds as always. She can see her small shadow behind a cloud, gliding fluidly and gracefully. That small and unusual daughter of hers was so high that a normal human wouldn't be able to see her with the sun's bright rays blinding them, but it was not her daughter's dragon that caused that sound of wings.

Dany watched as Missandei, who seemed to be flying down to them, decided to fly up with Jorahndal and Barriston instead. Dany grinned as she watched Missandei play with her brothers for awhile before letting her siblings fly off towards Nissa Nissa who decided to tease them by hiding behind a huge, dense cloud.

Dany's doubts and worries vanished at that moment as she saw her daughter flying lower and lower towards them. Her dragon armor glinting and her long, braided hair resembling a silver snake as it was tossed by the winds.

Dany's face broke into a proud smile.

She looked beside her and saw Daario grinning like a loon as well, delight were there on his eyes. It seems that Missandei's appearance made him forget the sad conversation they were just having. But it did the opposite to Dany. That smile on Daario's face made her remember another reason why she was practically drowning from guilt. It was Daario's treatment towards her daughter, it was as if Missandei was his own.

Dany and Daario watched as Missandei landed gracefully on the thin railing of the ship--exactly at the same spot where Daario was leaning earlier--and then perched there, looking like a shiny, huge, beautiful gargoyle; a beast her daughter embraced as to be her moniker.

To Daario and some of her men, the title was nothing but a form of endearment and respect to their Princess. But years ago, it was originally an insult the other children and some of Dany's enemies had made to hurt her daughter. But Missandei was always a warm and kind child, she did not hold grudges against the people who hurt her by words, she forgave them and adopted the name instead. And now, men trembled by the mere mention of it.

Missandei lifted her head and looked at them with her purple-grey eyes and then her daughter's lips lifted in a playful smirk.

_Oh no. _

"My, oh my, Mother. Looks like some of us are enjoying my absence." Missandei drawled teasingly at her with her head leaning slightly.

Dany felt her face warmed. She was expecting that the moment she saw that smirk.

Of all the things her daughter choose to say on their reunion, it was a quip to her.

Missandei's teasing made Dany noticed how close Daario and she were standing together and not to mention his hands were still on her hips. She scowled at her daughter in reply and pushed Daario away, who was chuckling happily at Missandei's joke and at Dany's discomfort.

Oh, how she had missed her daughter's annoying attitude as well, no matter how uncomfortable it made her feel sometimes, well, most of the time. And in this case, a little guilty. She almost forgot her daughter because of Daario's tempting. It was only for a few seconds but she felt guilty all the same.

Missandei grinned at her playfully, then jumped down with grace from her perch to land on the deck with them.

"Oh, Momma, don't look so shy. I know what you and Daario had been doing when the curtains and the door of your chamber were closed, anyway."

_And there it was._

"That was--your wrong," Dany said, her face warming.

That was one time, she wanted to say.

Second time, if she was being completely honest with herself but she knew it was the second (and the last) her daughter was pertaining.

The first happened way back when Missandei was nothing but a small babe learning to walk. It was when Dany felt so troubled about her lack of desire and she had tried doing it with Daario only for her to stop him midway and made an excuse that she was feeling sick.

The second time, well, she drank a little too much wine and Daario wasn't in a good shape either. Next thing Dany knew, Daario was kissing her and he was ripping her dress off. She remembered how it made her feel...troubled and not in the way she wanted.

She does not know whether it was just Daario's bad luck or something else was at play at that moment, but the then seven year old Missandei suddenly burst in her chamber through the door they had forgotten to lock and her daughter saw what she and Daario had been doing. Fortunately for Missandei she came inside rather early or else she might have seen something a child was never supposed to see. Unfortunately for Dany, her daughter had a pretty sharp memory.

As Missandei grew older and more knowledgeable when it comes to lovemaking and its arts, her daughter started to pay close attention on all the men that come and goes in Dany's life. It doesn't matter if it was Daario, a suitor, or just an innocent bystander. If the man so much as dared to linger his stare at Dany for five seconds longer than necessary, Missandei would come swooping down (quite literally at one time) to hover around her, making that person, and Dany as well, rather uncomfortable.

When it comes to "matters of the heart" or so her daughter likes to call it, Missandei would act as if she was the parent and she, the mother, was the irresponsible child. And it did not help Dany too whenever her daughter teases her about what she had seen as a child just to irritate her.

Just like now.

Dany restrained the embarrassment she felt. She looked dangerously at Missandei who leaned on the railings still smirking playfully at her while twirling her long, thick braided hair. Then she saw her daughter's eyes lingered at Daario's giving him a knowing look and a raised brow. Dany managed to caught the man behind her wiggling his brows at her daughter--just like what he did earlier--smiling proudly and acting as if he and Dany...

Dany looked at him coldly, that made him stop right away.

She turned her attention back to her daughter who was now biting her lips, trying her best not to laugh.

Dany sighed looking at her mischievous and playful daughter and wondered where she got those traits. Surely Dany was not so boisterous and playful as her daughter was when she was her age? Then again, she was never a child. Not truly. With Viserys hovering around her almost all the time, reminding her not to wake the dragon, scaring her to submission because she was all that he had that actually listens to him, that followed his orders like a true subject...yes, she was never a child.

Dany can't help but wonder, if she had been given a chance to have a mother or a true family, would she be as carefree as her daughter now? To that she had no answer. She brushed the disturbing memories and thoughts away from her mind and focus to the now.

_If I look back, I'm lost._

Her daughter seems to be unable to resist her mirth anymore. She let out a very beautiful peals of laughter that made Dany's heart melt making her forget everything other than her adorable daughter.

"Oh, Mother. You are always so edgy," Missandei said as she wiped the tears on the corners of her eyes from her laughter.

"And you are late. You've been long gone." Dany said trying to look and sound austere.

Missandei looked at her, her eyes sparkling from her laughter and then her smile turned wider, more genuine and free from all the teasing. That was the smile Missandei reserved to the people she truly cared for. How can Dany resist that smile? How can anyone? A small smile breaks Dany's mask as she opened her arms to her daughter.

She laughed as Missandei squealed like a little girl and jumped onto her embrace. Dany took a few step back from the force of her daughter's jump, but luckily, did not fall down. Dany hugged her child tightly. Wings, scales, armor and all. Dany closed her eyes and let her daughter's warmth (which manages to penetrate the Valyrian steel armor, like it was nothing but cloth) and scent flooded her. Clouds, fire and honeyed lemons rushed through her senses.

_My baby girl._

How she had missed her little dragon. Her hand caressed the folded leathery wings on her daughter's back and laughed as her daughter's body trembled a little at that. She reveled on her daughter's innocent giggles as she tickled her right on the spot she likes; on the thin scales attaching her wings to her shoulder blades. Dany was careful not to touch the spikes running from her daughter's upper to lower back though, they were very pointy and hard.

Dany pulled away to look at her child, to see if something had changed in her or if she was hurt. Dany noticed her daughter almost reached her height now. That was not saying something since she was not the biggest of women, but still, she got taller by a small inch since they last seen each other. Other than the height, her daughter remained the same. Still the warm, jolly and annoying baby girl she loves dearly.

"I missed you, Momma," Missandei said, with her eyes a little wet probably from the tickling or the deep emotion she was feeling.

Dany swallowed, a lump on her throat restricts the action. How very uncharacteristic of her, but then again, Missandei was always the exceptions to her every emotion. Besides, her daughter had never called her that without a teasing tone. The last time she called her "momma" innocently was when she was but a child of five, before Drogon...it was best she forget that sad encounter.

Dany masked the great rush of emotion in her chest by faking a cough.

"I may have missed you as well, if only you made me wait for you a little longer."

Missandei scowled at her, displeased by her reply.

Daario stepped forward, catching their attention. Dany had almost forgotten he was still there.

"Don't believe your mother, Gargoyle. She was beside herself with worry," Daario said. "Actually, if Kinvara and I did not advice her against it, she would have slept here at the deck, waiting for you."

Dany's face warmed by Daario's confession. Yes, she planned to sleep on the deck to watch but it was only for the reason that she was too tired to climb up every now and then from her cabin below then up again to the deck to check if her daughter was back.

Dany watched Missandei lift her delicate brows at her, clearly amused by what Daario had carelessly shared. Dany can practically hear the endless jokes her daughter would make out of that information. So, before that even happened Dany distracts her daughter's attention.

"Shall we take a bath?"

Missandei who was about to open her mouth, stopped. Her eyes turned wide then and her mouth formed a small "o" of surprise. Then she grinned like a small child and nodded. They hadn't been in a bath together for years, obviously it would excite her daughter.

Dany almost sigh in relief. She may have evaded Missandei's humor...for now. She started walking towards the stairs leading to the cabin below but Missandei's loud voice stopped her.

"Oh, I almost forgot!" Missandei exclaimed and started rummaging on the pouch tied on her sword belt.

Daario edged closer, curious. Dany as well. Was it another gift her daughter had brought from her travels? A necklace or a gem perhaps? Obviously it was not an ancestral sword or a crown this time for both were too big to fit in the pouch.

"What do you got there?" Daario asked curiously probably thinking on the same length as Dany.

"Wait, I got it...right in here." Missandei said, pulling out trinkets after trinkets out of the small sack. A leaf, a shard of obsidian, a...small dead mouse.

Missandei must have seen the disgust on their faces for she babbled that there was a cat at Dragonstone she was trying to befriend.

Impatient, Missandei pulled the pouch out of her swordbelt and started to shake the thing, and more items started to spill from it. Gladly, there were no mice but there were almost a dozen small obsidian shards on the deck floor now.

Surely her daughter did not mean for her to have dragonglass as a gift?

"Oh, there it is." Her daughter exclaimed while pointing at the wooden floor. "I thought I lost it."

Dany saw it as well.

Dany and Missandei both reached at the same time, almost bumping their heads together. But Daario beats them to it. He kneeled down and get the scroll off the floor of the deck. Dany watched as confusion and then understanding flashed in his eyes while looking at that small piece of parchment.

Daario stood up slowly.

"My Queen..." Daario exclaimed then looked at her with worry in his eyes.

Dany offered her hand for him to give the scroll which he obliged eagerly as if the thing was rolled in something that disgusted him dearly. Which it probably has because of the mouse it shared space with.

Then Dany saw the seal. And all her humor left her.

"House Stark," she mumbled.

This was to be expected. The Broken King already knew that they had taken Dragonstone. But so soon? Kinvara assured her that the Crippled was still blind to her or her daughter's presence.

"Me and Yara shoot a raven down when we were sailing. It must have meant for you, Mother, for it seems to be flying towards east." Missandei said.

Dany looked at the small roll of parchment in her palms once more. Dany watched as the gray wax glint in the light, enhancing the wolf-head figure embossed on it.

_What were the words written inside this time?_ She thought nervously.

The last time she saw this seal on a parchment it was on a letter belonging to a man...the last cutthroat who tried to kill her daughter. What was then written inside that piece of parchment was an order from the Queen in the North to kill Missandei, or what the red-headed ingrate described her as; "monstrosity born out of madness and incest, curse from the gods and a blight that should be eradicated". The order was plainly written in a beautiful script--probably written by the Northern Queen herself--that her daughter should be killed in whatever means necessary. The rewards of the "heroic deed" were lands and a title courtesy of the Queen's dear brother, the King of Westeros. That letter was Dany's evidence tying the assassins towards the Starks of Westeros.

Ironically, if Dany remembers it correctly, it was Arya Stark who caught that last assassin. Dany wished she was there to watch the confrontation of the siblings when Arya decided to come home. She would have traded all her riches just to sit on a chair next to them and enjoy the show; to see the wolves tear at each others throats.

Dany grasped the scroll tightly almost crumpling it and by doing so she had unintentionally broken the seal.

"I had that with me for weeks now, Mother. And I did not take a peek," Missandei announced proudly.

But Dany heeded her no mind, her attention were fully at the small scroll in her hands. The scrolls and it's words.

Xxxxxxxxx

How long has it been since that day? She asked herself.

Yes, sixteen years. And before that, almost eighteen years since she was called to Meereen by the traitorous dwarf and eunuch. She did not saw the Queen in flesh then, but she knew she would someday. The Lord of Light had kept on showing the Queen's face over and over in the flames since the red comet had scarred the skies. The Queen's beautiful face became familiar to her. More familiar than she was of her own face.

Kinvara finds it unusual at first. R'hllor seemed to have chosen her on a special mission that she doesn't know back then, for she seems to be the only priestess who can see Daenerys on the flames as frequent as her. Her face always appears first before every vision, as if the Lord of Light was telling her something. As if even back then He was telling her that the Queen was special. That she should serve her.

And then it happened. She saw in the flames the man named Snow--the hidden dragon--killing her; the Queen, the liberator, the one who awakened the slumbering magic of the world. She despaired then, wanting to go to Westeros to prevent what was to come, but another vision present itself to her at the last second.

It was darkness. The blackest she had ever seen in her entire existence. And in that pitch black, eyes as blue as ice stared back at her. Then a laughter so cold and dangerous rang in her ears. She had never felt so afraid at that moment. The foe of light, the god they cannot name, had won. Darkness and death would envelope the world once more.

And she was not ready. She, the First Priestess was a coward.

She did not left their Temple in Volantis even though she knew she must. Even though she knew the Queen needed her. She convinced herself that another priestess was there to guide the Queen. Melisandre was there to take her place.

For how many moons she did not look at the flames to see, for the fear of what her absence might cause the Queen. But then the news came to her from another priestess. The Queen had won. The Queen lives.

Only then did she allow herself to look again. But the flames did not yield any good news. It was the same vision before the darkness. It was Snow killing her Queen, only the vision was more vivid, the place, already set.

She felt guilty and disgusted that she was not beside the chosen champion's side when she needed her the most. She would not make the same mistake. She would save her this time, she promised.

She remembered her preparation to leave the Temple as if it was yesterday. Her ship, ready to sail to Westeros to save the Queen from her traitor lover's hands, until one of her sisters chanced to look at the flames once more. She saw Daenerys's fall. They were too late. Daenerys Targaryen was dead.

Then the Red God had given her hope. As she and her brothers and sisters were watching the flames inside the great Hall of their temple, they saw the black dragon carry the body of its mother.

Then R'hllor had shown her another vision, a vision only addressed to her. The other worshippers did not saw it. It was a secret He had only entrusted upon her.

She saw her, Daenerys in a pool of flaming blood. The Queen's own blood. Queen Daenerys was cradling something wrapped in a smoking blanket in her arms and when she lifted the cloth, bright light comes out of it. It blinded Kinvara but she heard clearly what it was the Queen was hugging in her arms. It was an infant.

All is not yet lost. She knew that Daenerys Targaryen would live.

And so, she waited...and waited, until the dragon from the vision gave her the Queen's cold body.

Her sisters helped clean the Queen's body, but it was her who pulled the knife out. She put the knife in a casket, she did not even bother to wipe the blood off of it, knowing the Queen would want to see the weapon for herself.

The only problem she faced was the most vital part of her entire existence. To give life to Daenerys.

She had never risen someone before. Much less two individuals at one time. She had lived for so many years and she had yet to steal a mother and child from death's grasps. But she had to try.

She made a promise then, that if she succeeded in breathing a new life to the Mother of Dragons and her child of light, she would happily take her rest. She had finally accomplished her purpose. Until Daenerys's body bursts into flames.

How beautiful it was, to see R'hllor's miracle with her own eyes. And how pathetic it was to change her mind at the last second. At that exact moment, she decided to stay. She wanted to be with the Queen for quite a while or for as long as she was needed.

She lifted her scarred hand to the candle flames. Inspecting the markings of it. This was her Queen's mark.

Three knocks disturbed her reminiscing. It was the Princess, she knew. A smile suddenly appeared in her face like it always does whenever the Princess was involved.

The Light of the World.

She pulled her hand back to the sleeves of her robes and walked towards the door. She opened it to see Princess Missandei fidgeting in front of her, wearing her purple satin robe to cover her nakedness (the Princess was accustomed to sleep unhindered by clothes), her long, curly, thick hair were unrestrained by her usual braids and was running unruly upon her folded wings behind her back. Princess Missandei's robe was exposed by a slit on the back to free her dragon wings and spikes, Kinvara and her other sisters made it that way.

"Kinvara, help me!" The Princess said worriedly her hands wringing together.

Kinvara smiled and opened the door widely for the Princess to enter.

"I would be happy to oblige, my Princess."

Kinvara closed the door softly when the Princess entered. She then sat back to her stool in front of her desk while the Princess slumped carelessly on her bed. Kinvara just looked at the child in front of her, waiting for her to voice out her worries eventhough she knew already what it was that bothered her Princess.

As she stares, she cannot shake the awe she felt just looking at her Queen's child. The Princess had the Queen's face. They look so much alike that it bothers her a bit. How can she be so sure it was Daenerys the Lord of Light was showing to her all those years in the flames and not the Princess?

Princess Missandei just stared at Kinvara in return with her big round eyes. The image distracted Kinvara from her thoughts. The Princess kept making herself as adorable as possible to make Kinvara cooperate in whatever ploy it was she wished to make her a part of.

Kinvara sighed. Like always, she curbed to her Princess's wishes, no matter how petty it was.

"What is it, Princess?" she asked patiently.

Princess Missandei scratched the back of her neck like she always does when she was confused, worried or disturbed. And maybe she was feeling all of that at the same time.

"Mother seems to be angry at me," the Princess said quietly, as if she cannot believe that her mother would ever be angry at her.

Kinvara sighed once more and edged her stool closer to clasped the warm-almost scalding hot-hands of the Princess she so loved.

"What came to you to do such...reckless thing?"

Kinvara saw the "honorable" actions of the Princess in the flames. It was not part of the Queen's plans but Princess Missandei was stubborn and still...a child. A child who wanted to impress her mother.

She saw how the Princess ordered her soldiers to board the cleaned bodies of their fallen enemies on their ships. And then sailed to King's Landing with their black sails, careful to follow the route where there were few boats and few city watchers to see their advance.

The Princess flew ahead too, to make sure her plan would be executed perfectly. Kinvara watched as Princess Missandei disable a city guard making his rounds near the bay the ships would dock. Princess Missandei burned the body with her own hands to hide it. Turned it all to ashes; armor, bones and all.

The Princess then remained at King's Landing till morning, pretending to be a homeless beggar, blending in with the crowds with a certain magic she had shown the Princess but never actually thought her how to use.

Kinvara must commend the Princess, glamor was very hard to execute, even her, a priestess of R'hllor had some qualms using it. But the Princess seems to face no hardship using it for hours. And without a ruby or a moonstone on her possession.

_I was right. Magic was stronger in the Princess._

The Princess's reply to her earlier missive was just a shrug. Kinvara raised her eyebrows at the Princess telling her by the simple gesture that she wouldn't have her help if she wasn't forthcoming.

"I don't know. I just...felt it was fun." Princess Missandei averted her eyes and pulled her hands from Kinvara's and then crossed her arms in defense.

"Fun," Kinvara repeated the word, testing it.

When the Princess set those banners aflame with a flick of her fingers, Kinvara had laughed with her, more in pride rather than enjoyment. The look in that false King's face was more than satisfying. But she cannot help but worry, she knew what that Raven would think now, how threatened he would be and what the Queen would say if she had found out that the Princess risked her own life just to have _fun_.

But what an entertaining show. The Lord of Light seemed to be agreeing with her as well, for the flames did not flicker away from the Princess in that entire moment. But then again, the Lord of Light seems to have a very strong liking towards the Princess even before she was born.

Since her brothers and sisters had found out that the Queen was with child, they tried to look at the flames for the child that would be born from the Queen. The visions R'hllor gave them in the past were always vague but when it comes to the Princess or the Queen, it was always clear. Clear as water and bright as a sun. And in the Princess's case, too bright that it almost hurts their eyes.

But the flames did not show Kinvara what the true intentions of the Princess was. Fun? No, it was more than that. Her Princess often acted like a child but she was not foolish. There must be a deeper purpose on what the Princess did and that was evident on the way she averted her eyes.

Unless...she was right on her assumptions that the Princess did that for the sake of impressing the Queen.

Kinvara straightened from her seat and smiled knowingly at the Princess. Right or not she existed to serve both the mother and the child. No matter how stubborn the mother was and how naive the daughter gets.

"Keep your reasons with you if you don't desire to share them with me, my Princess. But I don't know what I should do to help you. Your mother was a woman of her own mind."

That snapped the Princess's attention back to her. It was her time now to grasp Kinvara's hands in supplication.

"Please, Kinvara, please! Just talk to her."

How can she deny the Princess when she gave her that look?

Kinvara smiled and touched the cheek of the Princess before nodding. That made the girl smiled wider.

"Alright! I leave it to you then!"

The Princess stood abruptly then walked towards the door and then opened it. It did not took ten seconds and the Princess was already out.

"May the Lord of Light, light your way, Kinvara." The Princess said teasingly, her head poking on the small awning of the door before she fully closed it.

Kinvara cannot help but shake her head in both amusement and disappointment.

The Queen and the Princess, despite what R'hllor had given them, they still treated the true God as something of greater power that must be respected but not to be worshipped; to be asked for a favor but not be feared.

Kinvara stood up and opened the door of her cabin. The Princess was gone. She must have returned back to her own cabin, finally able to sleep sweetly when she had passed her burden to her Kinvara.

She walked down the hall leading towards the deck. As she walked she passed by the cabin of the Queen, but she knew she was not there. The door of the Queen's cabin were almost hanging on its hinges earlier in the day when the two smaller dragons break free off of their cages. Good thing one former slave that sailed with them specializes on building, with his help the Queen's door was fixed in no time.

The two dragons are getting bigger and feistier. And soon, the ten dragons of her Queen would be twelve. The vision of her Princess when she was just a child learning to see in the flames would happen. Valyria would live once more and no dark god or entities wanting to be one could ever prevent that.

...

Her Queen was standing on the deck once more. Leaning on the railings like she often do since they begun their journey towards Dragonstone.

The Queen must have been despairing at her daughter's actions.

Kinvara had tried to keep Princess Missandei's recklessness a secret when she saw it in the flames so as not to increase the burden of her Queen, but now she felt that she had made a mistake. She might have angered her. Or worse, broke her trust.

Kinvara breathed deeply. Her Princess relied on her and her Queen as well. It was part of her responsibility to not only give advice, but solace as well.

"Kinvara," Queen Daenerys called her. The Queen must have noticed her presence.

She walked closer and as she did she cannot help herself but marvel at the woman in front of her. If she was a stranger, she could mistake the Queen as the Princess's older sister.

Daenerys had barely aged. No, she did not aged at all. The Lord of Light had blessed the Queen with youth and beauty, which of course made the Queen convinced she was cursed.

Queen Daenerys was afraid, she knew. She feared that her child and grandchildren would outgrew her. Yes, that fact was daunting indeed. To see all your loved ones turned to ashes while you remained unmoved.

But it was a gift the Lord of Light bestowed upon his most faithful worshippers. How many women would kill to have what was given to the Queen? How many of his priestesses marvelled at their youth and continued to worship him because of it? But Queen Daenerys never worshipped the Lord of Light. She was never a priestess. In that, Kinvara and the Queen were in absolute agreement. Although she tried to make the Queen one of them, pushing her to see visions in the flames or talk to the Lord, but the Queen remained stubborn. Finally, Kinvara had to give up.

The Queen was different anyway. She and Princess Missandei was an anomaly that none of them had ever encountered before. The Red Priestesses' magic comes from the outside, from an object blessed by R'hllor. While the Queen? His magic runs within her very veins, on every vessel in her body. And seeing the Queen standing in front of her barely wearing any clothing to cover herself from the cold ocean breeze assured her.

_Fire is truly in her blood._

The summer dress the Queen was wearing was so thin that in the flicker of the fire on the brazier near her, her lithe body can be seen right through the thin cloth. And her skin, how it glows in the light.

Same as the Princess.

"My Queen," she said, suppressing the reverence in her voice knowing Daenerys does not like to be venerated.

"How long till Dragonstone?" Queen Daenerys voice was emotionless, as if she was in a daze. That made Kinvara worry. The Princess was here, her Queen was supposed to be happy like she always was whenever Princess Missandei was with them. No matter how reckless the Princess was on her exploits, the Queen was always quick to forgive as long as Princess Missandei was with her. No wonder the Princess was worried.

"Two more weeks, my Queen." She replied rather slowly, looking at the Queen's beautiful, emotionless face. Gauging her emotions.

Queen Daenerys only nodded at her distractedly. Something was amiss. She wanted to ask but she doesn't want to be prying. Was it because the Princess's reckless venture?

No, this was something else. In her years of service to the Queen she had grown accustomed to her moods. She knew when she was barely restraining her anger or when she was simply sad about something she did or thought about. Kinvara was assured the Queen was feeling both.

Kinvara turned her attention once more to the Queen who sighed deeply with her eyes closed as if in pain. As if she was struggling over something in her mind. A very hard choice perhaps? Does it involve the Princess? She cannot resist it anymore, she needed to ask.

"My Queen--"

"Read," her Queen said, cutting her question off. Queen Daenerys lifted her hands and offered her a piece of parchment she did not notice she was clutching.

Kinvara reached for the small parchment. Parchments. There were two of them, rolled into one. Kinvara edged closer to the fire and looked at the seal. Direwolf's head. Of course this would trouble the Queen.

She must look at the flames to see what this Raven was planning, she must have missed something in her constant watch over the Princess.

She read the first scroll.

'Greetings, Queen Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen,

King Bran of House Stark, First of His Name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men, Lord of the Six Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm, would like to inform you that you must ride with haste to King's Landing to attend the Great Council that would begin two moons from now. A great storm was stirring once more at the Land of Always Winter. Your presence would be expected.

Ps.

You are allowed to be accompanied by your men not exceeding of twenty.'

Kinvara wrinkled her nose in disgust by the words this false king used. He dared summon her Queen like a common lady of his realm? Must ride in haste? He presumed to order the Queen of Queens? The miracle of the one true god?

"My Queen, you cannot presume to entertain this..." her words caught up in her mouth in anger.

_This is preposterous._

If Queen Daenerys wanted to help Westeros, she would and not by the order of a crippled, broken usurper.

"Read the other," her Queen said before turning her back and started walking away. "And loudly."

Kinvara followed the retreating back of her Queen with a look, she wanted so much to follow her and so she did. She rushed after her Queen all the while reading aloud the second scroll by the light of the moon.

Kinvara paled by what she read. A test for her Queen.

Kinvara wanted to speak, to offer advice or maybe to calm her Queen but all the words were caught up in her throat when they passed a hanging torch and she saw the face of Daenerys Stormborn the Dragon Queen.

Her dark purple eyes were cold, her lips drawn back in a frightening grimace. Then her Queen's hands started to burn in angry flashes of red. How long has it been since she last saw her Queen like this? She had not seen her Queen's flames when the Broken King took Dragonstone or even when some foreign envoys disrespected her. Only when Princess Missandei was in danger would her Queen burn bright.

Queen Daenerys was angry. No, furious. She would destroy, Kinvara can feel and see it. And she had never seen anything so beautiful.

**Note:**

Ahh, to explain Missandei's magic it was used in the book by Melisandre when she hid Mance as Rattleshirt. A similar illusion was used as well by the Faceless Men in the House of Black and White. Long story. The kindly man explained the magic to Arya as artifice, a different brand of magic from glamor that would enable the user to change his or her appearance without the use of the faces from their temple or any moonstone or ruby. It was faulty though and can be seen if one had very keen eyes.

But I believe glamor was stronger for Melisandre had shown this magic to Jon Snow and she admitted to herself it was very hard to execute.

When Mance/Rattleshirt was burned at the stake in front of hundreds of men, not even one of them noticed the deception. Surely at least one of them must have keen eyes to see they were burning the wrong man? But no one reacted so, yah. I'll let you decide. But Missandei was not using a ruby, is she using artifice? You'll now in the next chapters.

So sad the show did not include the Mance/Rattleshirt swap and just opted with Melisandre being an old woman. But then again, CGI and its costs.

What dyou think though? Do you think the show had subtly implied that Melisandre was just using glamor all the time and her youth was but an illusion? That the reason why she said it was hard to do was because she might be doing the magic not only to hide Mance but to hide her age as well? Or was her youth in the books something else?

Oh, before I forgot.

As I've written above, Dany and Missandei are a different kind of...magical entities than the Red Priestesses. Fire is in their blood, like for real this time. They were more like fire mages than a priestess. But both of them are special to the Red God in some way that's why they both have greater perks than your average street magician (e.g. the street performers Dany saw in Qarth when she and Jorah explored the city).

But Missandei was more inclined to fire magic than Dany, simply because she was young and willing to explore. Dany, less so. As Kinvara stated, Dany was afraid of the gifts she was given. You'll now more in the next chapters to come.

So, yah. Jon chapter next then Missandei. Both their chapters would evolve around their reactions over Bran's letter.


	9. To the Wall

**After 84 years I finally updated. Whew.**

**So sorry guys, my job took all my time and attention. After I published the Dragonstone chapter I was employed (about time!) , so yah, I was soooo preoccupied and I only managed to do this story again between my breaks at work and every Sunday (which is my only day off).**

**And thanks for the reviews by the way. I totally appreciate it. Although I rarely give any indication that I did, trust me, I read them.**

**Anyhoooooo~~~****There's a slightly disturbing smut on this chapter. Sorry in advance if it was...well...just read.**

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He must be patient. He had been waiting for so long, what does a few minutes matter to him now?

But he must admit that in his impatience he almost send his summons to the Wall and await for Rhaegar's son to come to him, ruining the carefully set plan he had made, for he knew Aegon will not come to him despite the promises he wrote on his letter.

He can foresee Aegon handing over the undead animal to Sansa or--more probably--anyone of the Northern Lords for he might still have grievances towards his cousin, while Aegon himself stayed in the North, at the Wall awaiting his death. He would not come, no, not for Bran. Not anymore. And he needed Aegon's presence now more than ever if he wanted for the trap to be set, and the only way he would obey was if his former lover would come.

Arya's presence at King's Landing would have been a great leverage as well for Aegon to come to him, but the woman proved to be as stubborn as her adoptive brother. She was supposed to be riding for King's Landing like he ordered in the scroll, but what did he expect? Arya preferred her cousin over Bran. He saw her boarding a ship going to the now being slowly built Eastwatch by the Sea to meet Aegon at the Wall.

And Aegon?

He turned his eyes back to the broken Wall like he often do. Then beyond that to the white wasteland the wildlings called home.

_There he was._

Aegon was standing on an edge of a snowy cliff, his gray eyes, lifeless. He was probably thinking of the family he thought was still across the Narrow Sea. Or maybe thinking of jumping to the abyss.

The white direwolf with a chip on his ear was beside him but not the red-headed brute he called friend. If Aegon wanted to end his life, this would be the perfect time. But he knew he wouldn't. Him dying means abandoning his beloved wildlings on their time of need. Aegon wouldn't do that. Especially when they were but a few weeks away from the Wall and to salvation.

A few days more and Aegon would reach Craster's and a day or two after that, he would reach the Wall.

The Three-Eyed Raven watched as Aegon turned around and started to walk towards the camp of his wildlings, the direwolf he named Ghost, following him like a white shadow.

Six hundred. That was what left of the wildlings after the war. But now, sixteen years had passed and they had populated like rabbits. Almost eight hundred people Aegon must protect and a majority of that were children, women and the elderly. The men capable of fighting seemed to have diminished in numbers.

_"Your Grace."_

He heard a faint, trembling voice but it was not in the one he was seeing.

He turned Bran's eyes back and looked at his right. It was Samwell Tarly, gasping for air for he just ran from the Grandmaester's chambers to his.

The Three Eyed Raven already knew what caused the Grandmaester to be so agitated.

_Finally._

Tyrion was behind Samwell but the Imp was a tad more composed than the Grandmaester, although his complexion was paler. He noticed the big-round circles around his Hand's eyes as well. The news of dragons had taken away some of the dwarf's sleep. Like him.

The Mad Queen had finally reached Dragonstone with her children. Or so Lord Aron reported.

He does not know, he cannot see. No matter how hard he tried.

The only thing he managed to gain from his useless vigil was temporary blindness even when he was using Bran's eyes. Before, it was mere minutes then he will recover, but now he noticed that the longer he tried to look either for the bastard or the mother, the longer it was before he regained his sight. Thirty minutes of excruciating blindness, sometimes an hour.

It did not angered him, being blind, what angered him more now was how ignorant he had become.

How can he let this happen? How can he ever be so wrong? What _did_ he do wrong? He does not care what the small albino witch thinks, he still felt he made the right choice.

Letting Rhaegar's son to kill his aunt. Letting the Mad Queen murder those thousands of commoners. It was necessary sacrifice.

"A raven from Dragonstone, your Grace," Tyrion said, distracting him from his thoughts.

The Three-Eyed Raven did not fail to notice that the half-man sounded dazed as if he still cannot believe that his former Queen would deign them a reply.

Of course she will. No matter how long it takes for her to write to them, he knew she would eventually, for Daenerys had only one weakness, the very same one that caused her death.

For a while, when he found out that the Mad Queen had given birth to a child he thought it would be her weakness. That she could have changed. She did indeed set her priorities differently, making the bastard the center of her world, making herself vulnerable, for that was what she longed for for so long; a child, albeit a deformed one, but still, a humanoid child.

A very predictable wish. Of course she would long for a babe, mortals tend to wish for things they cannot have.

That only proves the bastard was not a chip in her mother's armor. Not anymore. When she was but a helpless babe, yes. But now that she had grown, the Mad Queen draws strength from her. The bastard made her wiser, more cautious. More sane.

He was disappointed at himself for not knowing much earlier. But no matter, he was using that strength now to manipulate the Dragon Queen to do his bidding.

She will not attack them, no matter how insulted she was by the words he used. She would not rain fire upon them not until the bastard agreed. Which he knew she wouldn't do.

A champion of the commons, the protector of the weak. Bringer of light and joy they said; the bastard had morals and principles she needed to uphold.

Now, he was glad the bastard did not die. Yet.

Samwell revealed his shaking hands from the long sleeves of his robes to pass him the scroll.

The Three-Eyed-Raven allowed himself a small victorious smile as he saw the red wax and the three-headed dragon stamped on it. A step, a small one, yes, but still a step. He broke the seal and by the light of the moon on his open windows and the few candles lit on the top of the hearth, he read the words written on it.

_Yes. This would suffice._

He turned to the men in front of him and watched as they shivered by the smile still on his face.

"Would you mind pushing me to my desk, Grandmaester?"

Samwell Tarly nodded shakily as he obliged to push the wheeled chair to his desired place.

When they reached the desk, the Three-Eyed-Raven pulled the scroll he was keeping on the sewn pocket of his sleeves for so many days now. He then rolled the scroll together with the Mad Queen's, then melted the wax and pressed it to the parchment, sealing the two scrolls together with embossing the Stark sigil on the gray wax. After that he snuffed the candles out.

He turned his attention back to the men who were both watching his every move. Samwell Tarly looks confused while Tyrion was horrified.

The Imp was intelligent. Of course, he had some inkling of what he had been planning all along. Wasn't that the reason the Lord Hand was nervous when he wrote both Aegon's and the Mad Queen's summons? Wasn't that the reason he was here even if his presence wasn't required?

"Send it to the Wall. And then write another scroll ordering the new Lord Commander Osgrey to await Jon Snow's arrival to give him his summons." He waved the sealed scrolls at the Grandmaester.

Samwell's mouth was gaping open and it would seem he would stay that way until the Imp gave him a nudge.

Samwell blinked so many times before bowing and then taking the scroll. He was about to turn his back before stopping himself and seemingly remembering something, the Grandmaester faced the King, his head still bowed and then pushed his king's chair back to his previous place by the unlit fireplace. Only then did he bowed more deeply, his face hidden and went to the door and closed it silently behind him.

Quietness ruled his chambers as he and his Hand stared at each others eyes. As the moonlight shines inside the room, the look on his Hand's face looked more hideous than usual. The light and the shadows enhances the scars on his face more, making it seemingly fresh as if it was just been inflicted.

After a while, Tyrion opened his mouth to speak.

"Will you allow me to call the servants to light a fire, your Grace?" It was obvious that the Lord Hand was stalling.

The Three-Eyed-Raven only shook his head in reply. The only light he allowed on his chambers were from the moon and if he felt safe enough, he would permit a few candles to be lit, but it would not last for about a mere minutes before he would snuff it out. Not now though. He looked at the remaining candles and lifted his mouth in a subtle smirk.

He felt Tyrion's gaze on him, he turned his attention to him once more and he watched as the half-man tried to hide the shivers that was caused by the wind from the open windows or maybe from his smile.

He believed it was the latter.

"What did she say, your Grace?" Tyrion asked nervously after a few seconds of silence.

He knew that the half-man had the answer to that question already but he seemed to be too afraid to admit it to himself.

"Nothing that concerns you, Lord Hand." He answered.

And now, to see where the Imp's loyalty truly lies.

Tyrion was about to ask more but decided against it. The room goes quiet once more.

"Bran...my King," Tyrion said haltingly before shortening the distance between them. The Imp only stopped about a few feet away when he seemed to remember how his actions must have looked to his King. "If...if Daenerys..."

Tyrion shakes his head as if to clear it.

"Your Grace, maybe it's not too late. Send another raven or...or a messenger to Daenerys..." Tyrion put his palm on his forehead, wiping the cold sweat budding from it but did not continue his sentence.

He felt his brows raised at his Hand's pleading.

_Daenerys?_

"Tell me, Lord Tyrion, what do you think is the three-headed dragon's weakness?"

His Lord Hand put his hand down and lifted his head to him. Tyrion blinked multiple times. He probably wasn't expecting that question to be the answer to his pleadings.

"Y-Your Grace?"

The Three-Eyed-Raven repeated what he asked.

"Is it a riddle, Your Grace?"

"Just entertain me."

Tyrion wet his parched lips with his tongue, before looking at him, gesturing to a chair, asking permission to take a seat near the fireplace right across him.

He merely nodded in reply.

Tyrion planted the palms of his hands on the soft cushion of the chair and with a small jump and a push from his strong arms, he managed to sit without disgracing himself.

"If we are talking in a theoretical way, your Grace, I would say its heart." Lord Tyrion said while relaxing on the chair. "A three-headed dragon still had one body, therefore--probably--one heart. Strike it true and the dragon will fall."

Tyrion said averting his gaze and turning it to the unlit fireplace.

"But if we are talking in riddles and more specifically, Daenerys," Tyrion then stared at him again with those cold mismatched eyes. "As I've said to you days before, my King, Daenerys had barely no weaknesses at all, but like in theory her greatest and only weakness was her heart. Despite what she wanted the people to think of her, she was soft-hearted. She loved easily, therefore trusts people easily."

The Three-Eyed-Raven watched as his Hand bowed his head, looking at the silver badge on his left chest.

"You are not wrong, Lord Tyrion. But only, your answer was not right either."

_Not to him, at least._

Tyrion lifted his head and looked at him in askance.

"Whatever you say, Your Grace."

He did not reply to the Lord Hand but only looked at him with discerning eyes. When he had found what he was looking for, he ordered his Hand to rest, disregarding the man's obvious refusal.

"The Lords of the Stormlands and their liege Lord would arrive early tomorrow." He said dismissively.

Tyrion, finally resigned, nodded at him, his eyes looking tired but still alert and a tad disappointed that he had not got his answers.

Lord Tyrion planted his dangling feet on the floor and started walking towards the door.

"And Tyrion," he called to him as the man was about to open the door. "Prepare the best chambers at the courtyard for House Targaryen. _Daenerys_ likes the garden for her children."

He did not linger his eyes to the surprised and terrified look of his Hand.

"And you wouldn't want me to question your loyalties, my Lord. The way you say _your_ Queen's name is questionable enough. Do you still love her?"

For sixteen years, Tyrion never invokes the name of the Mad Queen. Not until now. Something in him changed that caused him to regain his respect to his former Queen.

"M-My King? I wouldn't...I'm not! I..."

The Three-Eyed-Raven does not need to look at Tyrion's face to know he was as scarlet as the colors of his House.

"Leave, Tyrion. I know you're a smart man. You won't make the same mistake as the Onion Knight. And do find this traitor you and Bronn were talking about."

Tyrion inhaled sharply.

Did the half-man thinks he can hide secrets from him?

The Three-Eyed-Raven indeed speculated that there was a traitor within his City, but he cannot ignore the fact that there were people who can see with eyes that can reach beyond the abilities of a normal being and that most of them were serving the Mad Queen.

Or perhaps she saw with her own eyes. If she really did managed to awaken the magic of Old Valyria then it was easy for her to see in the flames. But it can never hurt him to stay alert incase there was indeed a traitor inside the Red Keep and even within his small council itself.

He needed to see more. He needed to try again and look at that evening on the Blackwater Bay. But for the mean time, he would make counter measures in case the few that was with him was swayed in the Mad Queen's slight victory.

What better way but to start with the Mad Queen's former Hand?

Turning back to the pale man still lingering by the door, he told him a warning he knew would assure the man's loyalty back to him.

"If you failed to find this spy, I would give the job to Lord Aron. And we both know who he would love to point his fingers."

Lord Tyrion's face was stoic but he saw the glint of scandalized fury behind it.

"Your Grace," the Imp said coldly before leaving.

There wasn't anything more important to Tyrion Lannister than Tyrion Lannister's life. That was one of the reasons the Imp betrayed his Mad Queen in the first place, why he wished for her death. He feared for his well-being.

It was either the Imp betrays him or he would do his best to survive by pleasing him. And the Imp knew he had no choice but to follow the latter. The Imp was running out of monarchs to kneel to.

Life is full possibilities, wasn't that one of the Imp's sayings?

When silence ruled within his chambers once more he began to contemplate his plans. Carefully laying it out one by one in his mind.

The mother, the slayer, and the lover. All will dance to the tune he plays.

He will not fail. Not after all this time.

The Three-Eyed-Raven will get what he wants, no ice or fire will stop him. Not anymore.

**Xxxxxxxxx**

He felt someone on top of him and they were fucking.

His eyes were closed, he opened it now. Silver. That was all he saw. He blinked his eyes and he looked around him. They were in a tent, he believed. Not his, her tent. They were on their way to Winterfell.

Relief flooded him. He was dreaming, just dreaming. The war has not yet begun. She's still here. Still with him.

"Look at me, Jon Snow."

That voice. It's really her.

_His Dany._

He looked at her. His eyes finally adjusted. She was on top of him, her body moving up and down, fast, seeking relief using his body.

He felt awed watching her beautiful body shining from perspiration. Her hair was loose and a bit messy and some silver strands were covering her face. His hands that were on her hips, reached for her face to cup it.

Her dear beautiful face.

He brushed the silky silver strands away from it gently then pulled her hair back, revealing her full exquisiteness to his eyes.

His heart suddenly filled with so much longing.

He can no longer resist it, with a forceful pull from her hair and her arm he gathered her in his embrace.

"Oh!" She exclaimed both in amusement and surprise.

"Dany, I had a dream..." he whispered in her ear as he nestled his face on her neck, burrowing his face on her soft hair.

How he had missed the flowery scent of it and the salty taste of her sweat. The comforting warmth of her body.

How long has it been Dany? He felt his eyes wet and his throat tighten painfully as he struggled not to howl in anguish.

The pain and loss the dream carried still lingers within his consciousness. Although he did not remember much of what happened or why he felt that way.

He hugged her closer to him until he enveloped her whole body with his, until he finally convinced himself that she really _was_ real.

They remained in that position for a while before Dany moved her hips impatiently.

He had almost forgotten, he was still inside her. He can feel his softening manhood harden again and filled her inside once more.

Dany gave a small sigh of satisfaction as he lifted his hips in reply to her body's needs.

She lifted her head and his gray eyes met the gems of her irises.

_Like the color of the sky before dawn._

Dany frowned.

"What's wrong, Jon?" she asked him as tears started to fall on his eyes, down to his temples.

He only shook his head in reply and then pulled her face to him to claim her sweet mouth.

His mind, screaming her name over and over.

He did not stop from kissing her even if his lungs started to hurt him from the lack of air. But it was her who pulled away from him, gasping.

She leaned back and was about to say something when he captured her mouth once more, biting at her lips and playing with her tongue. Everytime she would pull away to gather some precious air, he would claim her mouth once more. Before he knew it, he was already sitting on the bed and Dany was on his lap while her legs where on either side of his hips.

It was him who pulled away from the kiss this time when he felt her hand that was resting on his arms started to clutch him tightly, digging her fingernails on his skin.

_He was suffocating her._

He watched as she gasped for air and felt glad as she smiled mischievously at him.

Jon smiled back as he looked at her. Truly looked at her. Looked past her blinding beauty, past the perfection that was her face. He looked at her eyes.

The magnificence of her soul was peeking through it.

_She's so beautiful._ He thought.

She was also beseeching him with that familiar look. Telling him with those eyes what she would not convey in words for a Queen does not beg.

He lifted her hips slightly and she moaned by the sensation of his cock rubbing her walls. That made him grin. Heeding his Queen's silent request, he lifted his hips towards her as he pushed her body downwards. He buried himself deeper within her.

Jon relished the sound his Queen had made while watching her throw her head back in absolute pleasure.

He reached for her soft bottom and lifted it a little.

Then, he started to move and once he started, he doesn't seem to know how to stop. He moved his hips relentlessly, he cannot help the movement of his body. It was a slave to the woman on his lap. Like always.

And knowing Daenerys, she matched his every movement, until they united in a single maddening rhythm.

But she was Queen, she gave him a few more moments of domineering her before she put the palm of her hands on his scarred chest and pushed him down roughly back on the bed while she resumed her previous position on top of him, asserting her dominance as she often does whenever it was her turn to "rule" the bed.

He jerked his hips up as she comes down. Pushing his cock deep inside until it was almost impossible to think they were two persons with two bodies. It seems to him they were only one.

It produces another long throaty moan from her.

_She's so beautiful with her neck exposed like that._ He wanted to bite on it, mark her silky soft skin so that the whole world will know that the Dragon Queen was his. All his.

He sat up again and did just that. With his other hand on her hair, pulling at it and the other cupping her full bottom, he sucked and bite on the soft flesh of her exposed neck while hugging her body to his.

"Ah!" she screamed in what seemed to be in surprise rather than in pain, but before long, those turned into soft moans. He felt her hands embraced his head lovingly as her fingernails scraped his scalp.

Jon bit at her harder as Dany started gyrating her hips.

_Fuck, Dany._

He pulled away from her after giving her three marks. He looked at his work and was pleased that it was the desired color of purple and red. At least the marks would last for days. He would mark her again when those disappeared.

As he looked on her neck his eyes travelled on her ample breasts. He wanted to suck them as well, bite at them until she screamed for mercy. He put his palms on them and started to massage it. _So perfect,_ he thought, _she fits perfectly._

"I hope it was me you dreamed," she whispered, distracting him from his lewd thoughts.

_Dream?_

He stopped his hands from their movements and looked at her. He was confused for a couple of seconds before he remembered, yes he was dreaming. The guilt and pain suddenly roared within him once more. He felt like he lost something. Something so important and it was his own fault.

He brushed the thoughts away with a small shake of his head. He wanted to focus only to the woman in front of him. He bent his head and she pushed her breasts to his face, welcoming him.

He suckled on one pink nipple, bit at it like the way he knew she wanted, then he turned his attention to the other.

She brushed his hair once more, clutching at it as she moaned. He wanted to ask her to move and make him forget but the words were caught in his throat as she buried him inside her so deep. Her cunt tightening around him, sucking his cock in her depths. Then she started to move her hips slowly in circular motions and all thoughts disappeared.

The dream, the sadness and pain he felt when he woke up, all of it disappeared. It was only Dany. Just his Dany. His reality. His Queen.

_His life._

He pulled his mouth from her breast and throws his head back in pleasure. Dany leaned to him closer--her erect nipples pressing on his chest--and kiss his throat, then she started to lick it all the way to his beard, to his open lips.

He moaned as they kissed. Gentler this time, savoring each others mouths.

Dany.

She pulled away from their kiss loudly and then grinned.

"Well, Jon Snow, was it me?" she said breathlessly while looking deeply into him with those mesmerizing eyes.

He tried to remember, but she was distracting him as always and she was looking at him with that expression that made him want to give her anything and everything no matter how impossible it was.

Wanting to give her an answer, he tried to remember and looked past the loss and pain and regret he felt and searched his thoughts.

What came to him was her warmth and the color of her hair. She was there, in his dream.

He nodded as a reply. That simple movement elicited a beautiful grin from her.

_She was pleased. Good. _He liked pleasing her.

Dany pushed him back to the bed again and like their kiss, it was more gentler, as if she was asking permission to take the lead rather than just forcing him. Or maybe she was far too overjoyed of being the main character in his sleeping fancies.

Either of the two reasons, he willingly obliged.

He laid down and enjoyed the view of the most beautiful woman in the world as she pleasure herself with his body, slowly this time. Savoring him. Them. Their union.

"What was I doing...in your dream?" she asked almost breathlessly. She was close, Jon can feel it by the pulsing of her walls. He was close as well. He prayed that she won't stop, he wanted to spill all of him inside her. Paint her insides in white with his seed.

Her hands were tracing the scars on his chest but her eyes never strayed away from his.

He tried to remember once more, but this time with his eyes closed. She was distracting him, with that smoldering look, those purple-red marks on her neck, her bouncing tits and the fact that her insides were trembling. He tried to concentrate to give her the answer she seeks.

And in that darkness there was a voice.

His voice.

_You will always be my Queen._

Then he remembered everything and fear and shame started to sink its claws on him.

He killed her. In that dream he killed her.

Dany stopped her movements then gasped. Not in pleasure but like the air was caught from her lungs. Like she was punched in the gut. Or stabbed.

_She's hurt. His Queen was hurt._

He opened his eyes and the first thing he saw was the blood trickling down the flat plains of her stomach, right down to where their bodies were connected.

He gasped as he looked up fearing at what he knew he would see. There it was, the knife protruding in the middle of her pale breasts. He looked up to her face. She was horrified and confused, then she looked accusingly at him. She opened her mouth to speak but what comes out was blood. Then her eyes dimmed and she fell to his chest. Her beautiful body; heavy and limp.

"No. No. No, _Dany._ No." He started to sob as he sat up, hugging her close. Clinging to her.

"No, it's not my fault. It's not me Dany. You won't stop...you won't listen. I had to...I had to..."

He held her close as her fiery warm body turned ice cold.

**Xxx**

Jon looked at the forest around them and his thoughts turned once more to the boy he once was. If Jon Snow, bastard of Winterfell can see him now what would he say? He who was leading a whole pack of wildlings towards the realm of men, twice now. Being hailed by the free-folk as King-Beyond-the-Wall...the broken Wall.

What would the former squire to the Lord Commander Mormont of the Night's Watch would say to him?

_What would Lord Commander Snow say?_

The sixth Aegon Targaryen who became king; an aunt-fucker, Queenslayer, oathbreaker, traitor and kinslayer.

What would the bastard son of Ned Stark say to him?

What would honorable Ned Stark say? What would Rhaegar and Lyanna?

"Jon," someone called him. Jon blinked a couple of times before looking beside him, to the man whose hands were on his shoulders.

It was Tormund. Of course it was him. No one would dare to bring him back from his pit of self-pity other than him.

"You all right, Little Crow?" He asked, not unkindly but with a hint of impatience.

Lately, the man had been asking him those questions more often than not. Probably because the more they ventured South the more he remembered things, and the more he remembered, the more useless he became. But that was not the worst part of it. He had dreamt of her again last night.

It seems the farther they go South the more his dreams about her became vivid as well. And in every dream, the memory of his sins followed, ruining all the sweet times he shared with her.

_I had to, Dany. I had to._

"I think we should set up camp here." The wildling turned around then walked a little far from him, all the while nodding in agreement and if Jon knew any better, avoiding being with his company for any longer.

His "brooding" might have annoyed his unlikely friend more than he cares to admit.

Jon looked around as well. They were surrounded by pines. It would cover their huge numbers, sure, but that was the same with anyone who would be brave or stupid enough to ambush them. The Thenns might be on their tracks already. Or of what was left of them.

Jon's scouts had told him that the cannibals were near but seems to be avoiding them. Probably scared of their numbers. They are over seven hundred now, maybe more as Jon gathered every clan there was on the Haunted Forest. The Thenns, on the other hand, had grown smaller in population and Jon knew what was the cause of it.

The cannibals were farthest in the North than Jon's camp when the boy saw the one the free-folk had called the Night Queen. It seems the Thenns were the first casualties to this war and Jon, as much as he pitied the cannibals for their demise, felt glad. They betrayed them. Killed most of them in a surprise attack in the night. Killed the boy's--Dawin's--father and a vast portion of their men.

It has been a moon's turn now since the boy saw the female Other, but Jon can feel the changes of the coldness already. He had felt this before, back when he was still Jon Snow the squire of the Lord Commander. Back when he was fool enough to believe that this kind of cold was normal. Now he knew better and he knew what this coldness meant. For all of them.

The dead are coming.

A cold wind blew at them once more and with it, a voice. But it was not the familiar guttural sound the undead makes. It was another.

It was the sweetest voice and yet the coldest.

It was _her_ voice.

_You betrayed me as well. Killed me and the child I yearned for years,_ the wind seemed to say. _What makes you different from the cannibals you despised, the undead you sought to end? No, you are worse._

Jon fought the shiver. He was hearing her now with words she had never said but would have if she was there with him.

Even with his thick cloak and clothing he still felt the coldness of her words sank deep into his bones.

"The winter winds are back," Tormund murmured looking up at the trees as they shook.

He walked where Tormund stands.

"No."

"Hmm? What's it, crow?" Tormund asked, obviously confused and somewhat annoyed.

"We will not set camp here," he clarified. "Craster's is not far from here, we will go there and no one will rest until we do."

Jon started to walk again, gasping a little from the strain. His legs were aching from all the walk he did all day but he moved forward all the same. He needed to move forward, he had to. He had to do something other than stand there, for if he didn't, he feared he would hear her again. He may not be able to bear it. He feared he might run to the direction of her voice and never come back.

Tormund grabbed his arms to stop him.

"Jon," Tormund said gripping him tightly. "Look around! They needed rest, so do you."

Jon stopped. He wanted to pull his arms from the wildling's grasps but he saw not only annoyance but fear as well in his friend's eyes. He was scared. He must have looked like a madman to him.

Jon let his eyes wander to the sitting free-folk around him. To the women and children huddled together, to the shivering elderlies. To say they were tired would be an understatement.

Jon closed his eyes as shame started to spread within him. He breathed in the cold winds deeply until it stings his throat. He needed to get himself together. So many people relying on him, so many lives would be lost if he made the wrong move.

Jon nodded reluctantly.

"I'll go take the first watch," he said and turned his back to Tormund and started walking to the edge of the forest.

**Xxx**

"You should sleep, Little Crow."

Jon craned his neck and saw the fur-clad figure of his friend approaching him. Jon offered a small smile as a thought suddenly rushed to him.

If he was a proper King, Tormund could be his Hand.

"And eat as well." The man said when he got nearer at the stump he was sitting on.

Tormund offered him a strip of salted meat and a skin of sour milk.

Jon sighed and took it.

_A King and his meager feast and a wildling for a Hand, truly a king among kings,_ he thought sarcastically.

"Anything from the scouts?" he asked while sucking at the salty piece of whatever animal's meat it was.

"Nothing."

Tormund slumped on the ground across him, watching him carefully much like how Ghost would do with a prey.

"I'll take watch," the man said after a long awkward silence.

Jon nodded but did not bother to move. He had taken the first watch, then the second and he was planning to take another. And another.

He will not sleep. He was too much of a coward to face her again.

"How do you think she is?" Jon asked suddenly. His voice, rough. He wanted to convince himself it was the cold winds and the lack of sleep that made his voice sounds like it belonged to an old man rather than the emotion he was feeling.

He had never asked Tormund about her before. They did not even talked about her after he found out she somehow survived and was rising a child alone.

Back then he was fool enough to believe Tyrion and Bran's lies and deny the child's parentage. He even convinced himself that Bran seeing his Queen alive was a failure. That he was deceived somehow and the one in Essos was nothing but an imposter.

He cannot decide what was harder to endure, to know she was breathing and might extract vengeance to his family, that he might be asked to kill her again or to accept the fact that he did not only killed her but their child as well. Or perhaps the most painful thing was to believe he was not the father of her child, that she let someone touch her other than him. That she was everything they said; a foreign whore with an insatiable lust.

But to accept the child was his was like accepting that he committed an act more dreadful than being a Queenslayer or an oathbreaker. To kill your own child...what kind of monster is he?

But if he denied the child was his own flesh and blood it would only lead him to jealousy and envy that only made him more disgusted at himself.

Jon sighed heavily as Tormund looked at him with...pity?

"I don't know, Crow. Maybe having her dinner?" Tormund answered with a shrug. "Or sleeping?"

Jon sighed. He asked how Dany was, not what she was doing. But maybe the wildling was right. Maybe she was sleeping softly, unhindered by nightmares, sharing her bed with her new lover.

It was no secret to him how passionate the Dragon Queen was. She might not be as "monstrous" as Tyrion's lies depicted but it was true that her blood runs warmer than a normal mortal, it was obvious to him that she would not last a year without having a lover.

Or maybe--he hoped--she was with their child. They were talking about men they both liked or maybe making plans for what they would do come morning, what they would wear, or eat. What kingdoms they would take next.

He could almost imagine them, Dany sitting on the bed, her beautiful eyes sparkling in delight and with adorable grin on her pretty face as she looked at their child. Then his thoughts halted. He could only assume what her daughter would look like now. He conjured a girl similar to Dany's looks only with dragon wings.

She was ten and five now was she? Thinking of his daughter almost a grown lady now filled him with dread like it always did. The questions kept on popping on his mind from time to time and he was not pleased by it nor by the answers his mind provided.

How many had tried to take the innocence of his child? Probably many. How many men had come and go in her life? He knew she was beautiful given she was her mother's daughter, and Dany had many lovers before him, right? How many had made her cry?

_He would kill them all._

He shook his head to ward the disturbing thoughts from his mind.

Jon clasped the fur of his clothing, near his heart. Little Missandei, yes. That was someone not entirely a stranger to him and certainly not stressful to think about.

When they were packing the camp a moon ago, he opened the chest where his former belongings were laid to rest. There was his gambeson embossed with direwolf's head, the cloak given to him by Sansa. And Longclaw.

The former sword of a man who died protecting his Queen. A sword worthy of a man who would rather die than have his Queen harmed.

And that was not him. No more.

He put Longclaw down in shame, only to take it once more, remembering he had people to save. One last time he would wield it, he promised to himself. Then he would give it to someone worthy of it and so, he tied the sword belt on his waist once more and as he was about to close the chest he saw it. It was peeking beneath the cloak his sister...the Queen in the North made for him.

It was a piece of parchment given to him by Arya when she came back to Westeros, when she visited him for after almost eleven years. It was the only visit he ever had from a sibling. Nay, the only contact he ever had from anyone after Ser Davos's untimely death. Died in his sleep, they say. The man was lucky. He always was. After Ser Davos's demise? Samwell, Tyrion, Sansa.

_Bran._

No one. Not a single soul South of the Wall (with the exception of his little sister) bothered to ask him how he was, if he was still breathing. He was forgotten, until Arya came and slapped him with the hard truth.

No one cared for him. No one but her and a small deformed child across the Narrow Sea.

Jon pulled the delicate yellowing parchment from the folds of his clothes, near his heart.

He kept it, hid it. But he had not forgotten it. He treated it like a man would treat his treasure, because that's what it was, his treasure.

What the parchment contains were not words, but a very beautiful and detailed drawing of a smiling child. The little girl with unruly hair was grinning with almost all of her front teeth missing except for the two small incisors who were too stubborn to fall. Her eyes were reduced to almost a slit by the wide grin but he could almost imagine its color as described by Arya.

Dark purple before turning lighter, turning almost gray at the middle. The perfect combination of both him and Dany.

Sometimes when Jon took the drawing out, he would stare at it for hours. He liked to make stories out of it.

How Dany would brush the girl's hair and fuss at its curls and the way it tangles. How she must have spent lots of hours thinking of what the little girl would wear. And the girl, how she must have struggled being put on a dress, much like Arya did when she was young. That must have given Dany a headache as much as Arya did with Lady Stark.

Jon chuckled.

There are times he would imagine the moments Arya and his daughter had shared and pretend he was there with them. How she lost most of her baby teeth by jumping from a balcony trying to fly, which she did, for a couple of seconds before she fell and hit her face on the hard ground. And how both of them--Arya and Missandei--would sneak to the kitchens and steal cakes when the cooks were not looking, how they had spent hours brushing the horses on the stables and cleaning and changing the animal's shoes behind Dany's back. And the way she smiled, his daughter, Missandei, whenever Arya would tell a story about him.

Then suddenly he would remember, like he did now. He killed her. And then, the smiling picture, the stories he had made and the stories Arya told him was too much for him to bear.

He killed her. An innocent child. His own child. His very own flesh and blood. Arya tried convincing him he didn't, that he was not a kinslayer. That his daughter and the mother of his child were alive and well. But he can't. His conscience dictates otherwise and his memories told him differently.

Her breathing had stopped. Her body became cold when it was too warm to the touch seconds before he stabbed her. She and their child may be alive now, survived by the very same magic that brought him back from the dead but that doesn't mean he was cleared off of his sin. Like Olly and the rest, he still made the fatal blow. The only difference between him and the men who murdered him was he cheated death. He avoided justice.

"What'ya got there, Little Crow?" Tormund asked, grinning, probably from the previous chuckle Jon had made.

But the question was a little too late. Jon's mood had spiralled down to the depths of his guilt and self-pity.

Jon shook his head in reply and put the picture back to where he pulled it. Its weight, much heavier than it originally was.

He threw the remaining piece of salted meat on the wildling's lap and drank deeply on the wineskin, drowning himself with sour milk until his throat burned.

"Don't mind if I do," Tormund said and started nibbling at the food with much gusto.

Jon finished the drink. He was getting used to the taste but it was still quite strong for him. He closed his eyes, he was starting to feel the dizziness the drink accompanied, and huddled on his white bear cloak.

In a few minutes, he felt his consciousness slipping away. He fought it desperately. He did not want to succumb to sleep for the fear of having the same nightmares.

But the last dream he had of her wasn't so bad.

He sighed.

The temptation of seeing her again, feeling her, smelling her, hearing her...was strong. He would endure it then, relive her final moments a thousand times just to be with her once more even if he knew it was wrong to long for her, to desire her.

With a sigh of defeat, he let himself sink to sleep. Let him feel disgust when he woke up but not there when he was with her. Not when she was on his arms, where she belongs.

But he did not dreamed of his Queen that night.

His dream was of a little silver-haired girl with small dragon wings on her back. They were in a beautiful garden of a palace somewhere he did not know. And the girl was laughing and giggling incessantly like she had no care to the world as Jon chased her around. But no matter how hard he tried to catch up to the girl, no matter how fast and hard he ran, he still cannot reach her.

He ran and ran and ran but it seems the harder he tried, the farther the distance between him and the girl became.

He didn't even know why he was following the girl in the first place. But it just seems to him that, if he managed to catch her, everything would be set right.

But he did not managed to get close to her. Not even in the slightest.

And Jon woke up feeling tired more than he was before he closed his eyes, with tears frozen on his cheeks.

**Xxx**

"We're close," Jon said as he looked up at the Wall.

They're quite some miles away but all of them can see the Wall already.

Two more days of walking base on his calculations and four hours before they reached Craster's. Or formally Craster's Keep.

The last time he stayed there was about ten years ago. He and Arya was welcomed by an old woman who claimed she was Craster's first born and his second wife.

He cannot deny nor accept that as truth since he can't seem to place the old woman from the faces he saved so many years ago. But no matter, he was reluctant to stay inside the Keep. If he could choose, he would stay outside and just perch his tent.

The memory of the women who were living with Violet, the old woman was still fresh. They were all her children she claimed, along with the few thin, pale boys he saw huddling around the Keep. On that admission, Jon wasn't sure either. The youngest, if his memory serves him right was about ten years of age and Violet was already way past a woman's time to be with child of _that_ age.

But it was not the children that bothered him though. It was the women who tried to slip under his covers to seduce him. If it wasn't for Ghost who refused to leave his side, he could have been raped right then and there, while his sister was no help at all. Arya was so amused by the attention he was getting that she practically let the women throw themselves at him, laughing all the way when he tried his best to reject them one by one but not to offend them too much that would be considered disrespectful since they were still the hosts and he was just a guest.

Those women were desperate and persistent. Jon thought with a shiver. Although some of them did not wish nor force themselves to be married to him. They only wanted to have a child with him. A child of a King and their hero would be a great honor for them to bear, they said.

Jon obviously refused. He will not father a bastard, he countered. That put off the smile on Arya's face.

If he could only bypass the Keep, he would. But old Violet must be warned, if he convinced her to leave her keep and travel with them southward, much better. But if she refused, then at least he would be able to give a shelter and some dinner to some of his people who were either sick, too tired or too old. It was pretty obvious that not all of them would be accommodated. He would not presume too much that all of them would be given food as well. Violet, like her self-proclaimed father was not exactly generous to strangers.

Jon remembered the small sad piece of mutton he and Arya shared for themselves, courtesy of the old woman. Good thing her sister came prepared that time; she had bacon, cheese and bread and wine, enough to feed them both. While he, on the other hand was too preoccupied about the news of his family that he did not remember to bring anything. Only himself and the rugged clothes on his back.

Jon shook himself from that memory and takes the lead. He felt Tormund walk beside him. Ghost on the other hand, had disappeared again, probably hunting for dinner.

"Will the Night's Watch let us in?" Tormund whispered to him, careful as to not let anyone near them hear, especially the chiefs.

Jon did not offer a reply. He felt his wildling friend gripped his sword, reacting to the words he refused to say but he knew the man felt either way.

The brothers who knew them were all dead, the few rangers they encountered through the years were harmless, but not that friendly enough to consider an ally. The Lord Commander, the man that was once Lord Glover's soldier, the one who let him in when he left the True North seems nice enough but that may be because he was accompanied by the Queen's younger sister.

But he would rather chance it with him.

There was a new Lord Commander now, a stranger from the South. How he came to the position was still a mystery to him since his predecessor looked strong enough not to succumb to sickness and stubborn enough for the men of the Night's Watch to follow. Jon only heard that this man, this Southerner came to be commander after a year or two when he and Arya had their stand against Bran and Sansa the _King and Queen of Westeros._ Arya did not mention anything from her visits other than saying that the starvation was unkind to the men of the Night's Watch as well.

Might be the reason why there were no rangers that came to them after that few years. The new Lord Commander might have feared that the rangers might desert their watch for free food. The True North might be kinder to them rather than riding to South where the Northerners would behead them without a slightest hesitation. No ranging means no food as well. But at least, they would starve and die together.

The thing was, they didn't. The Night's Watch survived. Jon silently chastised himself. He wasn't particularly keen on stories about the Wall or South of that. He didn't asked questions nor encouraged Arya to continue either. He only listened on his sister's prattle and wait for her to tire out. If only he paid enough attention, he could have known at least a slight thing about the new Lord Commander and not only by his own speculations, because his mind was starting to create cruel images of this Southern stranger and was already liking this man less and less.

And to be fair, his images of Southern men serving a high position on the Night's Watch wasn't particularly good either, with the exception of Maester Aemon of course. Ser Alliser Thorne and Janos Slynt did not leave such a good impression on him and judging by both men's attitude, this new Lord Commander might left them on the edge of the Haunted Forest, looking down, watching as they begged to be let inside. But Jon knew that the worst possible outcome was not being given permission to enter, but being attacked by an army deeming them as a threat to the realm.

Their men capable enough to fight was about three hundred or maybe less and all of them were worn out for traveling so long a distance in such a small amount of time.

Jon doesn't need to be a strategist to know that they would be slaughtered and there would be no army to help them out. Not from Sansa and definitely not from Bran.

"Only one way to find out, I guess." He said, almost to himself.

He ordered to move forward and as he did, he felt the heaviness once more. That uncomfortable feeling of everyone's expectations and lives being thrown upon his shoulders.

_She felt it far earlier and far longer than I had._ He thought.

He had no right to whine about the hardship of it.

Xxx

"We know," the old woman who sat on the only chair in the room told him with a stern voice. "I had sensed it before you did."

Jon was stunned and embarrassed. Of course, the old woman was probably the one person inside that shoddy room who had more interaction with the Others.

"You don't think l don't know about them when I...I who had more than a dozen of my baby boys taken away from me?"

Jon apologized but it was as if he had not spoke at all.

Her sharp eyes turned glassy as if she was seeing something. As if she was living inside one of her worst memories.

"I can smell them in the air," the old woman said, her voice slightly trembling. "I can taste them in the water. I can hear them as the wind blows."

She then turned her eyes on him, her dreamy state gone, replaced by something dangerous.

"What makes you think we stayed here at this dreadful place rather than join Giantsbane?"

"The place where I had suffered the most? Where I watched helplessly as countless of my daughters fell prey to that pig's desires?"

"How stupid do you think I am?"

The girl with reddish-brown hair standing behind the old woman hid her chuckles with her hand. The other women seemed amused as well, some even mocking.

Jon focused to the girl once more, then realized that it was the same girl ten years ago that begged him to make her his Queen.

The only one among Violet's daughters to do so.

She was roughly three and ten at that time. _The same age Dany became a woman._

Jon tried to hide the shivers building up within him by that thought.

Jon tried his best to direct his gaze to the old woman who was watching him closely. He tried to place her face once more to the women he saved from the mutineers, but he cannot assume to have a good memory to really remember the old woman from the throngs of daughters and wives at the Keep that night.

"You can stay here if you want Wolf King. But only for the night."

"Mother," some of the girls protested, their earlier mirth forgotten. They started begging their "mother" to let him--alone, at the least--stay for a week.

Jon looked around him and felt a chill that doesn't come from the cold weather outside the shoddy Keep.

The first thought that came to him when he entered the Keep was, where were the boys? There were roughly a dozen boys years ago when he was first sheltered there, by logic some of them would be young men by now. But why were the only men inside the keep with him was Tormund, and the tribal chiefs? And he doesn't know if his memory was failing him again but it seems to him that the women had grown in numbers after a span of the years. There were even small girls about the age of seven now.

Jon fought his shivers by the first explanation his brain offered. He tried his best to push his conclusions to the depths of his mind and at the same time trying to smother the revulsion and fury from showing on his face for Violet was still watching his every movement like she was looking for an opportunity to accuse him of insulting her to kick him and his people out of her territory.

Jon continued keeping a straight face and meet the older woman's gaze. If it wasn't for the murmurs of protest around them, he could almost believe they were just the two of them inside the Keep. After a while, Violet turned her face away from him, there was a slight amusement on her eyes making it glint like that of a bird. Old Violet then scrunched her face in annoyance, making the wrinkles of her face looked deeper as if she was made from wood.

"Silence!" Violet shouted to her daughters and then coughed by the force of it. She cleared her throat before spitting a thick wad of phlegm to the ground. The young girls giggled as they dodged the green liquid and started pushing each other to it.

"Go! Leave, all of you!"

That stopped the girls' commotion and they all walked out of the keep through the only door. There are some still pushing each other as they went out, giggling all the way. But there was one that caught his eyes. It was a girl no younger than twenty, she had golden hair, something quite rare in the true North. But it was not her youthful beauty that caught Jon's eyes, rather it was the emptiness and grief on her expression that worried him, that and the child's blanket she was hugging in her chest.

He was not liking what he was seeing and what his mind was concluding thus far.

Jon, looking behind him to the chiefs sitting on the floor, nodded, telling them to follow the throng of women heading out. Some were pleased, eyeing the women greedily but there were some who were offended by being forced out by a frail old woman. None of them seemed to notice the small details he saw.

"You! Wolf, stay."

Jon who was about to stand up, sat once more and crossed his legs.

_Like a good dog. Ghost would be proud,_ he thought bitterly.

Tormund gave a pleased sigh as he stood up. Jon knew his friend was eyeing one of the more attractive daughters, specifically the sad girl.

"Please the old lady, will you?" Tormund whispered then pat his back, hard.

Jon frowned as he rubbed the place where he was hit.

"How many are you out there?" The old woman asked after it was only the two of them left within the room.

Jon answered truthfully. "More or less eight hundred."

That caused the old woman to frown in displeasure.

"One night, that's all I can give."

Jon wanted to persuade her more but conviction was there on her voice and in the way her wrinkled face was set. Her mind will not be changed.

"Come with us at least," Jon said.

Violet only smiled indulgently at him. It was the first genuine expression he saw the old woman had ever made.

She shook her head repeatedly.

"You had been gone for so long, my King. You don't know what's beyond that Wall. You don't know what my sweets had been through."

Her eyes darkened.

Ah, one of his questions was answered. It seems to him that some of the women were not truly Violet's children. They were adopted. Probably they were from South of the Wall? What he can't fathom was why would someone want to live beyond the Wall where dangers were tenfold than in the South. The starvation perhaps? But the opportunities in the South was way better than the True North. He cannot understand it.

And there was one more thing he must ask.

"The boys--"

"Go. Go South, " Violet said, her voice devoid of anger, rather she sounds patient as if she was expecting that query.

Jon wanted to ask more but decided to just give a small nod.

Old Violet gave a sigh and leaned on her seat. After a few seconds of silence, she speaks.

"Come back for us if you can promise me my sweets will be safe. Come back if you can promise me that you will bring the Dragon Queen with you."

Jon's heart beat fast, wanting to get out of his ribs at hearing that title. He opened his mouth to speak but the old woman was not yet done.

"I don't care what you did and the reasons why you came here without your White Queen, but we need her. More than ever."

Jon wanted to smile, but he can't. He wanted to promise her as well that he would bring Daenerys back, assure her that her 'sweets' will be safe, but he cannot lie to her. Not to this woman who was willing to shelter him and his people even if she knew how inconvenient it was for her especially in the coming winter where the food were always scarce.

"I cannot bring her back," he said, his head hung low.

It was the shameful truth. Even before when she was alive, he saw death in her eyes, saw what she had become and yet, he failed to bring her back to who she was. But the most heart-rending part was, maybe he did not try enough.

"Yes you will," Violet said with such faith that he knew he did not deserve. "You brought her to defend your lands before, you can do that again."

Jon did not reply.

"Tell her we thank her for saving our lives, twice now. Tell her Violet send her thanks."

Jon lifted his head in astonishment.

"What do you mean, my lady?"

"You'll know. Go to the Wall and you will know."

**Xxx**

He did not sleep that night.

He can't.

The old woman's words kept on bouncing in his skull.

Daenerys helped them? How? When?

When he came to the Keep with Arya, old Violet seems to pay no regards to any nobles much less to Queens. But now everything had changed.

What happened? He remembered that Daenerys cut off the trades of the Free Cities to Westeros. He saw the effect of what she did when he travelled to King's Landing through the kingsroad. There were thin, sickly looking children looking for scraps, throngs of people begging for food on their Lord's castles, people selling rats for meat and other vile things he can't even name disguised as food. He saw the construction of the capital of the Six Kingdoms halt and were still in ruins.

He witnessed what her vengeance had done to the whole realm, so why did the old woman thanked _her?_ What did he missed?

Once more, he tried to rake his brain to the news Arya conveyed to him whenever she visits but probably out of respect for him she rarely mentioned Daenerys. Except that one time when she said Daenerys finally lifted the restrictions she had made after three years of making the realm starve.

He remembered shouting at her little sister when he mentioned his Queen. Saying that he doesn't care.

But he did.

He still do and maybe some masochistic part of him still craved to hear what she was up to.

But since his outburst, Arya never mentioned Daenerys. She would mention Missandei, though and through that he could only think of Daenerys's path. Missandei taking Qarth. Missandei on Volantis. Missandei freeing the slaves. Missandei taking Braavos. The more Arya mentioned his daughter's conquests it would only make him furious and it was directed entirely to Daenerys. What was she doing, letting their child on a carnage at such a young age?

All of the news from Arya only leads to nothing as none of it were connected to Violet and Dany at all.

He gave a sigh and watched as his breath clouded in front of his face, blocking the moon and the stars.

He was outside and instead of laying down on his tent, he decided to sleep on a thick blanket on the cold icy ground right outside the Keep.

All of his men were outside with him as well, some had tents and some were sleeping on the ground just like him. Only the frail were the one he let inside the Keep to share the meal and comfort-little it may be-from Violet and her daughters. The others that were not able to sleep inside the Keep used his tent instead. But they were too many of them, so he had to convince anyone with a spacious enough tent to share it. They grudgingly obliged.

Jon suddenly sat up. He had given up on trying to sleep. He had counted almost every stars in the night sky and sleep still eluded him. He decided to walk around, maybe he would be tired by it and sleep would come to him at last. Or not. It does not matter to him anymore.

As he walked, he met with some of his men keeping watch. A few talks here and there then he left them to do their job, reminding them to take their rest after they finished their turn.

He decided to tread the forest, something he did not managed to do the last time he was there.

He did not know why he did it, perhaps he wanted to relive the times where everything was simple, when he was ignorant of the demons that lurks beyond the Wall, when he regarded them as stories to scare children to sleep. Or he just wanted to assure himself that Violet was too...disgusted of her so called father to had herself caught on his 'religion'.

Jon took a deep breath as he started to walk towards the path Craster made so many years ago and was surprised when he remembers it quite clearly. He may not remember the faces of all the people he saved, but this, this he remembered. He only need to follow the dread he felt, the quickening of his heart and it leads him to that same small clearing.

He stood there and looked around, he could almost believe he was Jon Snow, the squire still. Nosing around other people's business. He snorted quietly as he remembered Craster's face before he hit him in the head.

But then, Jon looked down on his feet with an almost sad smirk on his face. He kicked a small pebble and watched as it rolled in the white, snowy ground. How rude of him to make fun of that moment when a life was lost right in front of his eyes.

Jon shook his head in disappointment. If only he was careful that night, he could have saved the boy.

He looked up and let his eyes wander again on his surroundings, as if looking for any indication, anything that could answer his questions, but to his surprise and relief that area of the forest seems to have a feel of abandonment. It was as if no one visited it for so long, until him.

He gave a sigh once more but this time in relief.

It seems to him that Violet really did not inherit her father's belief.

Satisfied on his own conclusion, he turned his body around to go back to his people. Ghost might be already on his bedroll, snoring away with his belly full from his hunt.

Jon, wrapping himslef in his white bear cloak, started tracing his steps back to the camp. In that moment he felt it, a slight shiver on his spine. He felt someone was watching him. He slowed his walk and turned his head upwards, seemingly casual as he looked up at the moon, but he was actually straining his ear to any movements behind him.

Jon flexed his right hand, a habit he learned as a boy.

_Open and close._

He slowly reached for Longclaw's hilt. Then, hearing a small twig snapped right behind him, he turned around fast and unsheathe Longclaw from its scabbard, making the sword sing.

He heard a small gasp as he stopped Longclaw just an inch away from the hooded woman's neck. With such a fright he gave the woman, she started to stumble backwards causing her to be out of balance.

She was about to fall when Jon-with Longclaw now harmlessly lowered on his side-reached for her arm with his left hand and dragged her to him, stopping her fall.

The sudden movement caused the woman's hood to fall.

Jon felt his brows rise as he saw the familiar face of the girl with long reddish hair.

The girl's brown eyes were bulging, still in shock, her hands were on his chest while Jon's hand were at her waist to keep her balance. Jon was annoyed both at himself and the girl. He could have killed her if his reflexes wasn't fast enough. What in the seven hells does she want to follow him like that?

His silent question was finally answered when the girl smiled playfully at him-recovering from the fright he gave her quite fast-and moved her hand on his chest, seemingly tracing it through the thick clothing he wears.

Jon released her and took a step backwards, the girl just continued grinning at him mischievously, as if she wasn't a hairs breadth from death.

"M'lord," she said with a small bow of her head.

Jon bowed at her in reply while sheathing Longclaw, still baffled by the way this girl was acting.

"My lady." He said curtly, almost dismissively.

"Are you cold, m'lord?" she asked as she continued to smile at him.

Jon frowned. Not exactly the question he was expecting.

"Coldness is something I can endure, my lady."

That statement made the girl giggle. Not the expression he wanted. He thought that his words were rather cold and, well...rude.

Jon watched her, looking for any injury or any indication that he accidentally hit her head for her to act that way. As he looked at her he realized, like an ignorant fool, that she was no longer a child.

Jon looked at the girl intently not searching for injuries this time, but just to _look at her._ Her eyes were the color of ale; brown but dark, almost black, her nose was straight but too long and thin. Her lips were full though and freckles painted her cheeks.

She was not comely compared to the grief-stricken sister of hers but she was not plain either. Jon also noticed the lack of similarities to her and old Violet and the rest of the girls in the keep.

"What are you doing here, my lady?" Jon asked, just out of curiosity and to avoid an awkward moment between them.

The girl showed her smirk once more.

"I live here m'lord. I should be the one asking you that."

Jon was amused despite himself. The girl had audacity.

"I'm merely taking a walk," he replied, "My lady." Jon bowed and was about to turn around but the girl clutched his arm, stopping him.

Jon faced her once more and was startled when the girl suddenly wrapped her arms on his neck. She was about to kiss him full in the lips but he managed to dodge it.

"My lady, please." He said as he untangle her arms not unkindly but quite forceful to send a message to her.

She obliges but her face was red with embarrassment.

"What's wrong m'lord?" she asked. "Am I not pretty enough?"

Jon wanted to reply, to say some words of comfort but to his dismay he found none.

"I see, its my clothes," the girl took off her cloak and was starting to undress when Jon's mind finally cooperated.

"Stop what you're doing, child." Jon almost shouted in panic. He looked around, making sure no one was there other than them.

"I'm not a child now!" The girl suddenly shouted, pulling the hem of her dress back. "The last time you refused me was because I'm too young, and now I'm a woman you still refused me."

Jon wanted to kick himself. Of all the things to shout, that word was the one his mind provided. He did not dare reply further for fear of angering her. He did not want her to scream louder than she already did, lest she would wake up the camp. Tormund would not let him live this one down if he found out. Jests of him being a eunuch would then follow him until he die or until he bed a woman. The latter being the last thing he would do.

The girl...the woman turned her back on him only to turn around once more and face him. This time her face did not show any shame for being refused, rather it looks mocking.

"Don't tell me you still love the Dragon Queen?"

Jon was not surprised when those words came out of her mouth. She was provoking him, trying to hurt him like the way his refusal hurt her.

"Your name, my lady?" Jon tried to asked kindly. He thinks he succeeded.

The woman lifted her chin arrogantly.

"Lira."

"Lira," Jon said trying to smile but only manages a small grimace. Jon coughed and think of a way to soften the pain that would definitely come. "What a beautiful name," he said lamely.

_Seven hells. _

Jon sighed and walked towards her only to kneel on the ground to pick her cloak. He shook the dirt and snow from it and hand it to her, when she did--rather aggressively--he took a step backwards, giving her a respectable space.

"Lira, Daenerys is my queen and she will continue to be until I die." He said slowly, letting his words sink to her. "Forgive me if I have to refuse you. You are not worthy of me. You can find another man who will not deny you, who will protect you. You're still young, there is much more to see other than this place."

The woman bit her lower lip, Jon was not sure if she was preventing herself to cry or she was just stopping herself to retort. Jon felt pity towards her. He thought his refusal the first time was enough to make her realize that he was not interested.

"I waited for you, I even refused those men for you," she said softly.

The woman walked to him and this time Jon stood his ground.

"Forget what I said those years ago, I don't need to be your Queen. Just let me be by your side, by your bed, I promise I won't bother you or...or speak out of hand."

Jon only looked at her, dumbfounded and feeling unworthy of this kind of affection no matter how childish and shallow it was.

"You don't know what you speak of, Lira."

He tried to quell the look of pity on his eyes. He had the feeling she won't appreciate being looked at that way.

"Don't throw your life away, not for me."

"But you'll throw your life away for a dead woman," she said forcefully at him.

Jon was taken aback by that.

"What did you say?" Jon cannot control his voice from shaking.

_Daenerys wasn't dead._ He kept on telling himself. Arya said so. But the doubt within him rises once more. What if Arya was lying? What if she only made that story so he had something to cling onto? He didn't saw Dany alive, he only trust Arya's stories and the rumors.

"Oh, whispers of what you did came to us," Lira said almost stuttering but she finally regained her confidence. He might have looked angry to her, but he wasn't, he was... hurt and worried. Her words, finally penetrate his defenses even if he knew what she said was nothing but a lie.

_It was a lie. Just a lie, Jon. Arya wouldn't lie to you, she is your sister. This woman was the one lying._

Lira stood straighter and looked directly at him.

"A stab in the chest," she said the mocking smirk was back.

"The Crows from the South loved to caw, you know. I don't care what old Violet believes, Daenerys Targaryen is dead. That woman in Essos? That's an impostr, Plum said so, he heard their old Lord Crow say it."

Jon shook his head not in denial of her words. Why would he be, when he knew the truth? When his faith for his sister's words were strong? No, he was shaking his head to fight his fleeting sanity by hearing her name.

"Oh yes, yes it's the truth," the woman said her voice breaking, Jon knew she was fighting the urge to weep.

Jon did not felt any pity towards her at all. It was anger he felt, not at her but at himself.

After all this years? The pain was still too much to bare.

Disregarding his manners and courtesy that was practically pounded to him as Eddard Stark's bastard son, Jon turned around without a single word of goodbye.

"Your Daenerys is dead!" Lira shouted on his back, her voice echoing around the clearing and to him, shattering his already ruined soul.

"No," he whispered under his breath. "She's not."

A tear rolled on his cheek, before a cold wind slowed its movement.

Jon walked further before hiding behind a thick pine tree. There he put his gloved hands on his ears, preparing himself for the assault of voices on his head that accompanied the invocation of her name. It did nothing though for it was something only his mind had created.

He heard her giggle, heard her voice calling out his name. _My Wolf King,_ she murmured. _Rule with me._ All those words she said to him, overlapping each other, making his eyes water from the pain it caused on his head and in his heart.

"Please," Jon growled. "No more."

Then the wind blows at him and he smelled her sweet scent. Jon looked up, she was there in the moon and if he looked down, she was everywhere by the snow that covered his surroundings.

Jon gasped in pain as if he was stabbed again multiple times at the chest. It was the effect of hearing her name and the reason why he did not want Arya or anyone to mention it in his presence ever. It was painful enough when someone mentioned her titles by the passing; Dragon Queen, Mad Queen, White Queen or whatever she was called now, he can endure all of those; pretend that was someone else. Dragon Queen he can associate to any Targaryen woman who can ride a dragon, Mad Queen was a name he did not acknowledge, she was a stranger to him, more like a myth. White Queen, surely there were many women who had the same pale complexion as her and could claim the title even if her kingdom were smaller than Craster's Keep. What he can't escape though, was her name for there was only one Daenerys Targaryen to him; his Dany.

It had been years since he heard someone utter her name, years since he heard it from someone's lips other than his. But it never failed to make him weak. It never failed to make the tears flow freely from his eyes from anguish. It never failed to make him think of what could have been if only...if only...

_I love you._

A woman's voice suddenly whispered behind him. Jon turned around, and peeked behind his tree, no one was there, not even Lira. Was he all alone all those time? Was he only talking to himself? Was it the madness?

The madness (as he called it) started after that time he failed to go to her, to reach her after he learned the truth. Since then, he kept on seeing things that no one else did, hearing voices especially when he was alone.

But not like this.

He often saw someone he knew from his past, back when he was just Jon Snow and not Aegon. Was this a different form of his madness? Was he getting worse?

Jon started to tremble and breathe heavily, he was panicking. Was he mad? He walked away from his tree and looked around. He only partially calmed down when he saw the small footsteps on the snow seemingly walking away from where he stood earlier. There must be a path leading there to the Keep that he didn't know, it explained how Lira managed to sneak up on him.

He urged himself to breathe evenly. He was not going mad. Not mad. Not mad.

_I love you, Jon._

Dany murmured, closer this time. He turned, looking around once more. She was so close. So close, he can feel her. He can almost _touch_ her.

Jon lifted his arms, his hands grasping for someone who wasn't there.

"Dany?" His broken voice echoed in the silent night.

With a stroke of brief sanity he remembered, he was only hearing from one of his memories.

He remembered Dany sleeping beside him, tired from their coupling when she said those words. How proud and happy it made him feel hearing that. And how tormenting it was for him now.

He opened his mouth to say the words back. But it got stuck there. Three small words that honor dictates he never said nor think of. Three small words that he knew that could have saved the woman he loved. That could have saved _them._ He knew it was too late, far too late but he forced himself to say it anyway, honor be damned.

"I love you." Jon whispered back, letting the winter winds carry his lesser sins away: loving Daenerys Targaryen more than he was required.

**Xxxxxxxxxx**

Dany gasped and sat up from her bed. She squinted and looked around her cramped room below the deck of her small merchant ship. She clutched her thick bedsheet close to her body.

She was alone, the flames were her only company and yet, she was sure she felt a slight caress on her neck. She can still feel its warmth on her skin. Something was whispered to her as well, she did not catch what it was but she felt her heart beat fast. Was it dread that made her heart go wild? It doesn't seem so, but she was annoyed nonetheless. That was the most restful sleep she had for years, devoid of nightmares and dreams of the future that should have been.

There must have been a dream god somehow somewhere who loves to toy with her. She could imagine the spiteful deity giving her dreamless sleep only to wake her with a sweet caress of a lover. A lover, she deduced for she did not feel fear in her sleep. The flames would have acted within her if it was an enemy, regardless if she was dreaming or not.

Dany wiped the sleep from her eyes and gave her room one last search of an intruder even though she knew no one could have passed by her guards. Dany knitted her brows as she considered them; Black Bug and Mhogo. No, none of them would dare to sneak into her room while she slept and touch her, that was Missandei's job, not theirs.

Dany stiffened. Perhaps, her daughter disregarded her orders and sneak inside her ship, that would not be entirely out of character. But she gave her a choice, an ultimatum to be precise. Stay in Dragonstone and her recklessness will be forgiven or disobey her and Dany will forget she ever had a daughter. Of course, Missandei was already forgiven, but it was the only reason Dany can think of to keep her daughter away for a while.

Three knocks distracted her from her musings.

"Your Grace? It is I, Milana." A familiar voice said on the other side of the door.

_At long last. _

Dany stood up from her bed and grabbed her robe and wrapped it around her.

"Enter," she said when she looked respectable enough.

The door opened and the hooded figure of the red priestess greeted her. When the door was closed she pushed her hood back. It was not the face Dany had grown accustomed to. The green eyes was now blue, the small, straight nose turned a little bit longer and aquiline and her hair of red and gold was just gold.

_It was a very pretty face,_ Dany admits.

Dany walked around the priestess, impressed by what she sees.

"I assumed you found her?" Dany said softly, almost a whisper. She was standing right in front of her now.

A small crooked smile appeared on the stranger's face, like the way the priestess used to.

"Yes, your Grace."

Dany did not know whether to rejoice or not.

"She will not be harmed, my Queen." Milana assured her. Her worry over the welfare of the stranger Milana copied must have been evident.

She was a sweet girl, an ambitious one, yes but ambition was something she can understand.

Dany sighed and nodded reluctantly, her hand rubbing her neck unconsciously. The warmth was still there, as if she was marked.

"Your Grace?" Milana called to her.

Dany blinked before putting her hand down.

"Is something wrong?" The stranger's brows were knitted together in worry.

Dany watched as the face shimmered like flames blown by the wind, Dany blinked and Milana's youthful face was back.

Dany waved her hand dismissively.

"How long can you last in that image?" Dany asked to shift the conversation away from her.

Milana still looked at her worriedly but did not dare to leave her question unanswered.

"As long as the Lord of Light wills it," Milana said with what seems to be a smug look.

Dany fought hard not to roll her eyes.

"Three days, or less?"

Milana bit her lip as warmth gather on her cheeks. Dany chastised herself, she must have been too stern.

"Three days, your Grace," the priestess said weakly.

Dany nodded, counting the hours it would spare her. She find it practical to assume less as well, thinking that in the worst case scenario, Milana can only hold for only one and a half days. It won't be enough she knew, but it was all they had.

There was another complication that needs to be solved though.

"And the ruby? Can you hide it even..." She left her words hanging. It bothered her, how the priestess can hide a gem in her person even if she was naked.

Milana's playful smile appeared once more.

"The old fool gave her a couple of ruby earrings, your Grace. I only needed to chant the words...and the Lord obliged. "

Dany gave an impressed smile, but a new worry came to her once more, in Milana's safety this time.

"Remember," she said gravely. "Three days is all you have. Once you encountered something that will put your life in danger, leave."

Milana opened her mouth, ready to protest. Dany stepped forward and touched her cheek.

"When your life was compromised abandon the plan, we will take the old city in another way. I will not have you dead because of me, do you understand?"

Dany looked at her eyes deeply. Milana only stared at her like the way someone would look at a lover; with awe, love and veneration.

"Yes, my Queen." The priestess said breathlessly, leaning her face on her palm like a small child.

Dany sighed and dropped her hand. She need to remind herself that this woman was three decades older than her and not the girl she presumes to be.

"I'll leave you the old man and pray I will succeed in making the sun smile in our favor."

Milana nodded.

"Are you ready then, my Queen?"

_Was she?_

Dany closed her eyes. Searching herself for doubts.

She found none.

Rather, she felt something else. Something she thought she lost, something she abandoned. She can feel it in her blood already, running in her very veins. How can she deny herself from this for so long?

Dany opened her eyes and stared at the woman whose eyes were huge with anticipation, Milana's breathing turned to short gasps.

Dany ignored the look of adoration on the priestess's face and she gave a grin.

"Let's break, shall we?" She said, the thrill of adventure making her body tremble.

Oh, how she missed this.


End file.
